


Please Don't Take Off My Mask

by mcschnuggles



Series: A New Mask [1]
Category: Persona 5
Genre: Age Regression/De-Aging, Angst with a Happy Ending, CGRE - Caregiver/Age Regressor, Gen, Regressing!Akira, Slow Burn, hopefully
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-29
Updated: 2020-11-28
Packaged: 2021-03-06 07:42:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 37,287
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25599769
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mcschnuggles/pseuds/mcschnuggles
Summary: Akira has fuzzy days sometimes. It's no big deal. It's manageable.But when someone comes begging for help from the Phantom Thieves, he finds himself traversing a Palace that reminds him more of himself than he'd like to admit.
Relationships: Kurusu Akira & Everyone
Series: A New Mask [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2040298
Comments: 191
Kudos: 221





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Oh no I've started another multi-chap whoops
> 
> I've only played P5 vanilla, so this is based on that, not P5R. Also, I don't know when this takes place I just want to have all the characters I love here. Let's just say this takes place in like the week between finishing Okumura's Palace and the resulting press conference?

Akira knows by now how to handle his fuzzy days.

When the world is crumbling and his problems just feel too _big_ , the best solution is too shut his mouth and keep his head down. It got him through his first days at Shujin, and it’s gotten him through the hazy, off days in between.

So when he wakes up on a Tuesday morning, feeling too small to handle the world, he knows he’s in for a long day.

He nods to Sojiro on the way out, not trusting his own voice. It’s days like these where it’s infinitely harder to speak. Not that he likes to speak any other day, but today the words will be harder to string together. The right thing to say will be obfuscated; it’ll be easier to make someone upset, and as a result, he’ll take that small failure harder than he would any other day.

His senses will be heightened. The train will feel more crowded than usual, and every casual brush of his arms will feel like pinpricks on his skin. If he’s lucky, he may be able to snag a seat and read, but it’s unlikely and useless. Fuzzy days make it near impossible to concentrate, so he’s more likely to just sit there, staring blankly at a paragraph he can’t absorb.

After that will be class, which he has to pray will be merciful. Hopefully they aren’t covering anything that will be on exams. Maybe he can ask to borrow Ann’s notes. She won’t be too happy about that, but if he asks tomorrow, it shouldn’t be an issue. He just has to make sure he doesn’t forget.

“Hel- _lo_? Earth to Akira.”

Akira blinks, jerking his head in Ryuji’s direction. He hadn’t even realized Ryuji was walking beside him.

“Are you alright? You look really out of it, dude.”

Ryuji has been around him enough to know that he just has days like this. Better yet, he knows better than to push, and will instead try to fill the chatter with any change of topic he can think of. There’s a reason Akira has developed a bad habit of following him around like a baby duckling when his head gets fuzzy, after all.

Ryuji sighs. “I get it. Just one of those days, huh?”

Akira nods. Another thing about Ryuji is that he understands Akira’s silence, and usually he doesn’t push Akira to talk when he doesn’t want to.

“Yeah. Just tell me if you wanna skip, yeah?” He offers, but Ryuji especially can’t risk skipping anymore days and they both know it. But that’s not the point, and the offer most definitely still stands in spite of that.

They continue on their way to school. Ryuji tells him all about the new video game he’s been playing, and his enthusiasm is a nice focal point. Akira lets the words wash over him, adding the occasional head nod or smile when appropriate.

Unfortunately, in proper baby duck style, he almost follows Ryuji right to his class. Since Ryuji was still talking, they’re both able to play it off with a laugh, but he knows that isn’t going to slide twice. He has to be more careful going forward.

When he makes it to his own class, Ann turns to give him a sympathetic smile and offers to let him copy her notes later. Her phone is still open to her messages to Ryuji, and while he can’t read them without being obvious about it, he has a pretty good idea what they were talking about.

Ann and Ryuji try to play it off with bickering, but they work really well as friends. Sometimes it feels like they picked up right where they left off in middle school, and Akira is never sure how he feels about that. It’s not like he’s ever left out when it comes to the three of them; there’s no way Ann or Ryuji would ever let that happen, but the possibility is always lingering in the back of his mind.

Akira makes the split-second decision to speak today. “Thanks.”

Ann blinks. “Huh?”

He gestures to her still open phone, which makes her face go all shades of red.

“Hey, just looking out for you!” Ann says. She spins back around, just in time for Kawakami to come in and begin the lesson for today.

It’s a little hard to focus, but thankfully no one’s calling on him to answer questions or throwing chalk at him. Because these are always the types of days where he always messes it up. There’s a unique shame that comes from hearing your classmates half-whisper about you, saying they expected you to get the answer wrong, and a different, just as awful shame that comes from them laughing at your expense after getting bonked in the forehead with chalk. He’s never cried in class, though the fuzzy days have made him come close more than once.

When lunch rolls around, true to her word, Ann slides her notebook onto his desk and lets him copy anything he missed. Admittedly, he did miss quite a bit, so he spends the majority of lunchtime copying down everything.

At some point Ann slips him an energy bar, and his stomach growls at the sight of it. That’s right, he hasn’t eaten all day, has he?

Thankfully, he’s gotten caught up with his notes, so he can spend the rest of lunch break actually eating. Something else he needs to be careful of, he notes. He hasn’t forgotten a meal before, but now that it’s a possibility, it’s something he has to watch out for.

When class resumes, he finds some of the fuzziness in his head has cleared. Not enough to allow him to properly focus, but he can at least follow what’s being said without being overwhelmed.

Frankly, Akira is shocked. Fuzzy days never go this well, but with how things are shaping up, he should be able to get through it without a hitch.

That is, until Mishima corners him after class.

“Akira, can I talk to you for a second?” Mishima glances around before pointedly lowering his voice. “It’s about the Phantom Thieves.”

Akira gives a single, curt nod. Mishima will be a little harder to deal with than Ryuji or Ann. Ryuji usually understands him right away, and Ann is quick on the uptake, where Mishima can be a little oblivious. He’ll just have to keep things brief.

They wait until the other students clear out. Mishima talks to him about his homework for the evening as a cover, and while Ann gives them a questioning glance, she doesn’t interrupt. Instead, she points to her phone and gives a thumbs up, the code clear. _Text me if you need an out._

Akira nods back, and she disappears into the hallway.

“I got this in the mail yesterday.” Mishima explains, pulling an envelope from his back pocket. “A woman I met on the Phan-Site has been asking for help for a while now. She was hoping she could give this to you personally, but I told her that I could run interference instead. I guess it’s really important to her.”

Akira turns the letter over in his hands. It’s still in the envelope she’d sent it in, with Mishima’s address scribbled out and “Phantom Thieves” pasted over it. He vaguely wonders if this was at her request or if it’s just a result of Mishima’s unwavering dedication to the Phantom Thieves’ image.

“She wouldn’t tell me much else.” Mishima continues. “She kept saying that she only wants to talk to the Phantom Thieves, no middlemen. So can you at least give it a look?”

Akira nods. It seems his day isn’t over yet, unfortunately. As much as he’d like to just skip the rest of the day, or at least be able to get lost in mindless work, that all comes second to Phantom Thieves stuff. If he can avoid it, he doesn’t like going into the Metaverse when his head is fuzzy. After all, it’s so easy to botch a command, and one of his teammates would end up paying the price for it. But a meeting shouldn’t be a problem.

“Thank you.” Mishima shoulders his bag. “I’ll let her know it’s been delivered.”

Akira gives another curt nod, turning his attention to his phone. The rational part of him knows that this could wait a day or two, but fuzzy days usually mean he’s desperate for approval from others. The part of him that longs to help everyone gets stronger than ever. So he calls the meeting, and responses quickly trickle in. Everyone’s available, and they’ll meet in LeBlanc in thirty minutes.


	2. Chapter 2

When it comes to being around his friends when his head is fuzzy, Akira is… apprehensive to say the least.

On one hand, being around all his friends makes him feel infinitely more at ease, but on the other hand, the last thing he wants to do is put his fuzzy day on them. Well, more than he already has. It’s always a fear in the back of his mind, that Ryuji’s kindness will only extend so far, and he never wants to find those limits.

He glances around the group, wondering if anyone can pick up on how quiet he’s being. Futaba and Yusuke are too busy talking about some show, with Futaba emphatically explaining why it’s so great as Yusuke attempts to understand. Haru is half-listening, half-drinking her tea, and Makoto is spacing out.

Ryuji, of course, is still concerned and Ann too, but only because of their prior knowledge. When Ryuji asks if he’s doing better, he nods the affirmative, if only to keep them from worrying. Because he loves spending time with his friends. He just wishes it wasn’t solely for business this time.

“Mishima gave me this.” Akira explains, taking the letter from his bag.

Ann peeks over his shoulder. “Is it a request? Doesn’t he usually text those?”

“This one’s a special case.” Morgana explains. “The sender only wanted us to read it.”

“Well, what are we waiting for, then?” Ryuji asks. “Crack it open already!”

Akira carefully opens the envelope, careful not to mar the return address, and removes the letter.

The script is small and neat. Handwritten.

_Dear Phantom Thieves,_

_I have a very important request to ask of you. My name is Nanami Takeda, and I have been caring for my sister Yui for the past year. It’s hard to describe, other than one day she just… shut down. I thought she’d be doing better once we moved out of our father’s home, but she seems to only be doing worse._

_First she stopped going to work, then she stopped answering calls. It’s gotten to the point where she doesn’t talk to anyone, myself included. She hardly leaves her room, and she never leaves the house anymore. None of her friends bother visiting anymore, and while she meets with a therapist twice a week, she never speaks. He tells me it’s unlikely she ever will. It feels like everyone but me has given up on her._

_But I know there has to be more to this. I know that she’s hurting, and I know something is wrong, something that she can’t bring herself to bring up._

_I know you mainly deal in corruption, but it would mean a lot to me if you could find the time to change her heart as well. I’m fine with staying with her, I’m fine with caring for her. All I want is for her to tell me what’s wrong. I so badly want to fix it._

_-Nanami Takeda_

“Is this another mental shutdown?” Ann asks after the letter has been passed around the group.

“There’s no mention of any incident like the others we’ve heard of.” Yusuke says. “The mental shutdowns are usually weaponized in some way, are they not?”

“No hits in Momentos either.” Futaba says.

Ryuji sighs. “So what? It’s a bust? That’s gonna be one awkward response letter to write.” It’s not the first time they’ve had to turn down a request, but this is the first time they’d have to do so directly.

“Not exactly.” Futaba peeks up at everyone over the brim of her glasses. “She might have a Palace.”

“Why would she have a Palace?” Ann asks. “It sounds like she’s just a girl that’s hurting.”

“I had one. And besides, it doesn’t matter what kind of person they are. If their cognition is distorted enough, they’ll have a Palace. It sounds like she’s scared of the outside world, so she probably sees something as a bigger threat than it actually is.”

A heavy, uncertain silence falls on the group—or maybe it just feels that way to Akira. No one really enjoys talking about their unhappy pasts, but Akira hates hearing about them even more, especially Futaba’s. It just never sits right with him that he could’ve been doing more to help them, and to know that there’s been such a significant portion of her life miserable never fails to make him feel guilty.

“Will we have the time?” Haru asks, breaking the silence. She glances around the group, waiting nervously for confirmation.

“We’ve cleared through Palaces in less than a day before.” Futaba points out. Apparently she’s already gotten attached to Yui’s situation, seeing how alike they are. She’s already out of her seat, like she’s going to sprint to the Takeda’s place on foot.

“We don’t even know if she has a Palace.” Makoto says.

“Then how come it’s a hit on the MetaNav?” Futaba flashes them her phone screen as proof. “We have the address, right? If she’s not leaving her house, then her house has to be where the distortion is!”

“Now hold on…” Ann trails off when she realizes she won’t be listened to.

“Maybe we should ask our leader what he thinks?” Yusuke says.

Suddenly all heads swivel towards him.

Akira blinks, shocked at being addressed for the first time since their meeting began. It shouldn’t shock him, because he’s the leader, and he’s supposed to watch out for everyone else, but he realizes how woefully unprepared he is to make a decision only after everyone’s looking to him for an answer.

Usually he’d just confirm the unanimous decision, but with everyone but Futaba the tiniest bit uncertain, he can’t do that. Why can’t he just make everyone happy?

Futaba stares him down, making her eyes as big and sad as possible. The last thing Akira wants to do is make her sad, and it’s not like anyone said no. That’s another key part of fuzzy days—it’s much harder to say no than it is to say yes.

“If she has a Palace, it wouldn’t hurt to check it out.” Akira says finally. He fights to keep the wince off his face, waiting for a sign of disapproval, but none comes.

“If you say so.” Ryuji stands and stretches. “We might wanna hurry if we wanna get there before dark though.”

“We’ll be able to take the train most of the way there.” Makoto says, already typing the address into her navigation app.

The rest of the group clears out, and Akira trails behind them. The last thing he wants is to be back on a crowded train, but he can’t go back on his word now that he’s given the okay.

They attract a few stares on the train, but it’s hard not to when you’re a group of sketchy looking teenagers harboring a very talkative cat on public transit.

Ryuji and Ann sit on either side of Akira, attempting to deflect every conversation that’s attempted in his direction. Worrywarts, the both of them, even if Akira deeply appreciates the effort.

“You sure about this?” Ryuji asks in a low tone, meaning the question is only for Akira and Ann. Well, more Akira, but Akira prompts Ann to speak first by looking to her.

“I mean, I understand why Futaba wants to do it.” Ann says. “The way I’m looking at it, if I weren’t a Phantom Thief and Shiho had a Palace, I’d want someone to do the same for her. I know it’s not usually our style, but I’m concerned for the girl too.”

“Yeah, I understand that.” Ryuji agrees. He pauses for a beat. “But if we get there, and we figure out the codewords and stuff, I think we should vote not to go today.”

Ann nods her agreement. “Yeah, I’m feeling a little out of it myself.” They exchange that look again, the one that means a conversation is flying right over Akira’s head, before turning to him. “What about you, Akira? You seem tired.”

He understands why they’re doing this, and that being said, he really appreciates the effort. But the problem isn’t that he needs an out, it’s that Futaba has her heart set on this already. And from the way she’s been talking to Yusuke and Haru, she’s gotten them pretty quickly on board as well. Yusuke didn’t need much convincing, seeing as he was with them when they cleared Futaba’s Palace, but all it took was a brief recap to get Haru up to speed, and she was more than convinced.

Any way you do the math, that’s way too many people he doesn’t want to let down.

“I’ll be fine,” he responds. “The Metaverse should help clear my head.”

And while it’s clear neither of them believe it, they thankfully let the subject drop.

* * *

Nothing stands out about the Takeda residence. They live in a modest apartment building, nestled among other modest apartment buildings and seeing a modest amount of foot traffic. The gang sits on a nearby bench, trying to look as inconspicuous as a group of seven teenagers can look.

Part of Akira is hoping this entire thing is a bust. That the address will be wrong, or that their residence won’t be the source of the distortion. The train ride, the walking, has more than anything solidified how badly he wants to go home. He doesn’t even care if he has to spend the entire night studying, just something to get his mind off the current situation.

“Are we good?” Ryuji asks Futaba and Yusuke, who are on lookout for any extra listening ears.

Futaba nods. “Go for it.”

“Let’s do this then.” Ann pulls out her phone and speaks in a low but clear voice. “Yui Takeda.”

The MetaNav chimes the affirmative. A hit. The others share wary glances. Even if they already knew that, hearing it again only makes it more real.

Akira especially doesn’t like the sound of that. Suddenly the idea of spending all night trekking through a Palace has become very, very real, and he doesn’t know if he can handle that at the moment. Not if he has to be the one in charge again.

“The Takeda residence.” Yusuke tries.

Another hit.

“So her cognition is distorted in some way.” Morgana confirms. “Now we just need to guess what the distortion is.”

“A tomb.” Futaba tries immediately, ignoring the concerned look Yusuke shoots at her as a result. The minute it’s out of her mouth, she goes back to very pointedly looking for passersby that seem too interested in their conversation.

Incorrect.

“I don’t think her cognition is so negative.” Makoto says. “It sounds more like she’s hiding.”

“So, hiding place?” Ann tries.

Negative.

They throw out as many guesses as they can. Shelter, hideaway, hideout, refuge, sanctuary, haven, but none of them yield any results. But now that they’ve started, there’s no way they can just walk away.

“Was there anything else in the letter that could give us a hint?” Makoto asks.

Akira pulls the letter from his back pocket, scanning over Nanami’s words again. “Doesn’t look it,” he says, handing her the letter.

“I can pull up thesaurus.com again.” Ryuji offers.

“There has to be something we’re missing.” Yusuke says, ignoring him entirely.

“Let’s cycle back.” Makoto suggests. Her eyes are flitting across the ground, her mind moving a million miles an hour. “Okay, say you’re terrified. Everything’s a danger. Where’s the one place you could be that you’d feel safe?”

“Something with walls on all sides.” Akira mutters. “Something with no entrance or exit. Something impenetrable.”

“Like a vault?” Ann asks. She’s looking at him, like she expects him to have the answer for this too.

Akira lowers his gaze. His answer had been a projection of his own wants more than a genuine answer, but it was as good a start as any.

When his brain gets fuzzy, normally his room is good enough, so he cycles back to the bad days. His first day at Shujin. When he was alone and scared, with no one in the world that cared either way. He remembers wanting to hide so badly, in a space that no one could come in unless he said so. A place with no doors or windows.

“No, like a bunker.”

The MetaNav chimes the affirmative, and before anyone can react, the world blurs and blends, taking them from the real world and placing them in the cognitive.

Akira immediately looks to his hands, to find them in the red gloves of his Metaverse outfit.

It seems Akira’s day is still far from over.


	3. Chapter 3

The entrance of the Palace is exactly what Akira expected.

A long stairwell leads to the surface, while the area around them is made entirely of concrete. It reflects every step, every sound. Sneaking will be hard here.

Akira takes stock of himself, trying to keep himself calm. He hadn’t considered how it felt to be on the other side of a confined space. When it’s not his own, he feels more like a rat in a maze, and he can’t help being nervous.

“I’m not sensing the Treasure anywhere nearby.” Morgana says.

“Where else is it supposed to be?” Ryuji asks, kicking idly at the floor. The resulting sound bounces around the empty air, impossibly loud in the quiet. “There aren’t any doors here.”

A second look over their surroundings confirms as much. At a first glance, the Palace is nothing but a single square room, four walls of concrete and nothing more. Nowhere to run, nowhere to hide.

“A vertical Palace layout, perhaps?” Yusuke suggests.

“There could be a secret passageway somewhere.” Makoto agrees. “Are you seeing anything, Oracle?”

Futaba frowns from behind her visor. “Not at the moment. The concrete is blocking the signal.”

Makoto nods. “We should spread out and search for anything suspicious.”

The group splits up. Akira isn’t sure what exactly they need to be looking for, so he helps Haru scan the walls for some sort of hidden panel. He tries to match everyone else’s energy—the enthusiasm is always high when they first enter a Palace—but he’s secretly hoping they won’t be able to progress. Even after this, his evening is far from over, but he just wants the day to end already. He can already feel the Metaverse wearing on him, creating a weariness that strikes him down to his bones.

“Any luck?” Makoto asks.

“Nothing so far.” Haru answers. The others echo similar sentiments.

“Guys?” Ann asks. Hearing the quiver of uncertainty in her voice, Akira pivots. There, hidden in the dark corners of a desolate bunker, almost invisible amongst the shadows, is the very thing they’re looking for.

Yui’s shadow.

She’s watching them with impossibly large eyes, the glow of which cuts through the darkness surrounding her. Her dark hair is cut short, framing her face in a way that makes it look full and round, despite the hollowness of her face. Akira can just make out the outline of her clothes—a dirty, oversized baby blue sweater matched with equally torn leggings.

“Well, she’s not trying to kill us.” Yusuke muses. “That’s always a good sign.”

Yui watches them with interest, daring only a step closer. The darkness still masks her, but it’s a sign.

“Do you know who we are?” Akira asks, thankful that his voice projects a confidence he doesn’t have.

“You’re the Phantom Thieves.” Yui answers. Her voice, by contrast, is tiny and fragile. The sound only carries to them by aid of the concrete. “My sister called you.” She takes another step forward, but her eye is especially drawn to Akira.

“She did.” Akira confirms. He hesitates, choosing his next words carefully. “Do you want our help?”

Yui tilts her head, as if what she wanted had never once occurred to her. “It doesn’t matter. You won’t last long.”

“What do you mean by that?” Makoto asks. Even she’s fighting to keep her voice level.

“You’ll find out when the sirens go off.” Yui says with a shrug. She takes one step back, then another, but she doesn’t take her eyes off the Phantom Thieves.

“Sirens? What sirens?”

But Yui doesn’t answer. She just shrinks further and further into the darkness, as if it will swallow her whole and take her somewhere else. Maybe it will.

“Yui, please!” Makoto begs, but she’s swiftly cut off by Ryuji.

“So what, you’re not even gonna help us?” Ryuji cries. “We gotta do all the hard work here?”

“I’m sorry,” she whispers. And with that, she turns and runs, but there’s very little space to run to. However, as she reaches the far wall, she pulls back a grate and scrambles inside.

“How long has that been there?” Ann asks.

Akira doesn’t answer, knowing the answer is that it _hadn’t_ been there before she wanted it to be there. Another wrench in their plan, he supposes. She has more influence over this place than she thinks, which may prove difficult if they end up getting stuck in a place they can’t get out of.

“That must be the inner sanctum!” Morgana says. “The Treasure has to be in there!”

“Quick!” Futaba cries. “Before the entrance closes off!”

“It can do that?” Ryuji asks.

“I don’t know and I don’t wanna find out!” Futaba replies. She breaks into a run, but thanks to her little legs, she’s easily outpaced by Akira and the others.

He makes it to the grate first and almost immediately regrets it. What if the entrance closes behind him? The Metaverse is dangerous, and he definitely can’t handle traversing a Palace alone. Not to mention that the idea of being trapped _and_ alone is enough to paralyze him with fear. He knows his friends would come for him, but he’s terrified to think how long he’d be alone in the interrim.

“Quick, we might just have a chance to catch her if we hurry!” Makoto says, and suddenly the mission, Yui’s wellbeing, _everything_ is riding on his shoulders. So he doesn’t let himself think about it—a skill he’s carved out from years of practice—and goes in first.

It’s only a matter of seconds before Akira pushes through the tiny crawlspace to find the world before him…strikingly pastel.

The walls are soft pinks and blues, with images of meadows and ponies and rainbows painted over every available space. Blankets and toys are littered throughout the halls, and as he looks down at his hands, he sees the floor beneath him is nothing more than a quilt of teddy bears.

“What in the world?” Ann mutters. She crawls in after Akira, with the others trickling in after. “This looks like a nursery.”

“But the MetaNav keyword was ‘bunker.’” Yusuke says. He’s already taken to wandering the perimeter of the room. While he doesn’t say anything else, it’s clear from the way he flinches that the overly bright artwork is far from his standard of art.

Makoto comes in next. “Any idea, Mona?”

“Hmm. This is very strange, indeed.” Morgana says. “Yui definitely sees her home as a bunker, but this may just be the distortion manifesting itself further.”

“So, what’s with the toys and everything?” Ryuji asks.

“They must provide her with a sense of safety.”

Akira could understand that, in a way. Especially if it could be kept secret. All the toys looked really nice and soft and fun. If they weren’t all grouped together, if there was no chance of him getting caught, he might be poking through them at the moment.

Akira quickly shoves his hands into his pockets before he gets any ideas. No Palace has had an influence like this before—and it must be the Palace, because what other explanation is there? What kind of power is this? Tiredness weighs down his bones, and he suddenly has the urge to curl up on the floor and nap.

He covertly glances around to see if any of his teammates feel the same, but if they do, they don’t show it.

“Okay, this is all shades of weird.” Ryuji mutters.

“Definitely garish.” Yusuke agrees.

“Any sign of a map or are you just tryna critique the art?”

Yusuke’s eyes widen. “Oh, I hadn’t thought of that.” With a sigh, he turns back to the mural in front of him, which depicts multicolored ponies playing in an equally pastel field. “No, unfortunately. It looks like this is all cosmetic.”

“Something’s coming! Everyone hide!” Morgana cries.

Akira is the slowest to move, ducking behind a taller pile of blankets. Half of him is tempted to hide underneath all of them, as the pile is certainly tall enough and it seems like it would be ridiculously cozy.

He digs his pinkie finger into the tip of his knife, hoping the pain will give him some sort of clarity. Seriously, what’s gotten into him? Going into the Metaverse was supposed to make things better, not _worse_. But now his head feels fuzzier than ever. There’s a countdown clock playing in his mind’s eye, telling him how little time he has left before a full-scale breakdown. This was a bad idea—no, this was an _awful_ idea.

The Shadow finally lumbers into sight. It’s massive, lumbering, but its feet hardly make a sound.

Akira squints, almost not believe his eyes. It’s a teddy bear?

“What the hell?” Ryuji whispers.

“Well, it certainly fits with the theme in here.” Yusuke says.

“We should split up.” Makoto suggests. “I can go with a group to take out the Shadow, and Joker can lead a group to go after Yui.”

“Sounds like a plan.” Futaba agrees. “I’ve got a signal now, but it’s weak. I’m routing out the area as best I can. It looks like we’ve got seven Shadows in the immediate hallways.”

“Let’s do it.” Makoto doesn’t wait for a confirmation from Akira; she must either know something is up or feel impatient with him. Either way he doesn’t blame her.

They split into two groups, with Makoto, Haru, and Ryuji taking on the nearest Shadow while Akira, Yusuke, Morgana, and Ann pursue after Yui.

The area is one long hallway, and there aren’t any Shadows in sight. That must mean more hallways, more tight corners.

It really is a maze.

Makoto’s group scouts ahead, up until the path splits in two. Two hallways, each with two doors on each side. Each door is large and metal, looking more akin to the bunker aesthetic than the nursery one.

“Let’s split up!” Futaba suggests. “I’m tracking two Shadows in each direction.”

Makoto’s group heads left, so Akira and his group go right.

They haven’t made much progress when a scream tears through open air, which only makes Akira and his team move faster. He has no idea what could hurt a person in their own Palace, but they can’t risk her getting killed.

The second Shadow and Yui are in the same place, with Yui’s arm is caught in the Shadow’s massive paw. She’s fighting against it, pulling desperately to get her arm free, but the Shadow is undeterred. It marches along, dragging Yui behind it.

“They’re supposed to listen to her, are they not?” Yusuke asks, an edge of panic in his voice.

“I’ve got a bad feeling about this.” Morgana says.

Akira doesn’t think, he just moves. If his brain weren’t fuzzy, he probably would’ve checked around for any other shadows, but all he knows is right now, the person they’re looking for is in danger. Admittedly, he may be as drawn to her as she is to him, but that plays no part in wanting to protect her.

He leaps on the Shadow’s shoulder and removes its mask in one fluid motion. “I’ll reveal your true form!”

Akira isn’t sure where he went wrong. Maybe he hadn’t distributed his weight right, making it easy to throw him off balance. Or maybe he just didn’t have the element of surprise this time.

Either way, the Shadow tosses him off, and he hits the floor with a painful thud.

Pain can work with him or against him on fuzzy days. Small things—diggings his nails into his palms, picking the callouses on his hands, clenching his jaw until his teeth ache—can bring a sense of clarity, can help him focus, but that’s with things he can _control_.

Sudden pain, like tripping over his own feet or say, getting thrown by a Shadow with a surprising amount of upper body strength, will only make his head fuzzier. Because the unfairness of it all, the fact that he’s having a bad day and he’s still getting picked on, hits him harder than usual. He can’t stop the whimper that breaks free from his throat.

Thankfully, the fight ends there. Yusuke unsheaths his sword, and the Shadow evaporates in one hit. “Weaker than expected,” he muses, which sounds like a jab to Akira’s ears.

He knows Yusuke didn’t mean it like that, but he can’t help feeling that way. After all, Makoto and Futaba have been taking the reigns on strategy for today. Ann and Ryuji have been looking after him in the real world. If he can’t be a leader or a fighter or even a functioning human, what good is he to the Phantom Thieves?

“You okay, Joker?” Ann asks. She’s hovering from a distance, but the concern is written all over her face.

Akira stands and rolls his shoulders. “Fine.” He’s just glad he hadn’t landed on his face. He wouldn’t have been able to stop the tears if that were the case.

Yui is looking at him again, only him. Akira takes a small, unconscious step back. Why does it feel like those yellow eyes are looking right through him? And why is it only him she seems interested in?

“Hi there.” Ann says, breaking the silence. “We’re sorry for scaring you earlier.”

Yui’s concentration breaks, her eyes flitting to Ann. Surprise is written across her face, like she hadn’t even noticed the extra people around her. But now she’s watching Ann like a rabbit watches a fox.

With no answer, Ann continues on, albeit a little more awkwardly. “We really do wanna help you. If you could maybe give us a map or show us around, we’d really appreciate it. We could even keep you safe from the Shadows!”

“They’ll only come back.” Yui tells her. “It’s no use.” She never stops moving backwards, her legs tense like she’s ready to break into a sprint. “You should just go.”

“Well, you obviously don’t know how stubborn we are!” Ann jokes, but the humor is lost in the tense atmosphere. “We’ll help you no matter what, okay?”

“Really, I’m fine.” Yui insists. “I can handle this on my own. You should go.” She draws to a stop, pivoting her foot, and Akira recognizes what she’s about to do right away.

“Wait!” Akira calls, but it’s too late. She’s already gone, taking off down the long hallway.

“Shall we pursue?” Yusuke asks, but Morgana holds him back before he can.

“She’s running straight for a dead end. Let’s try not and make her feel any more trapped than she already is.”

But as she nears the end, he back wall parts, revealing a dark and narrow hallway for her to disappear into. And as she fades from view, the wall closes behind her.

Morgana hums. “This may be troublesome later on, but for now, let’s regroup.”

“Even Kamoshida’s Palace didn’t move around this much.” Ann comments.

As they walk away, Akira can’t help but feel like it’s his fault. After all, what if he’d managed to dispatch that Shadow? Maybe Yui would’ve felt more inclined to trust him.

Just another failure to add to the list.

“The area is clear.” Makoto tells them as they return. “Any luck finding Yui?”

“Well, we found out she doesn’t control the Shadows, if that’s anything.” Ann says.

“It is, and not for the better.” Morgana replies. “If she doesn’t control the Shadows in her Palace, it means that she perceives herself as less than she is instead of more.”

“It seemed like that Shadow that caught her was trying to take her somewhere.” Yusuke adds.

“That could be a possibility, too. The Shadows might be answering to someone else, someone she perceives as having ultimate power over her.”

“Her sister, maybe?” Haru suggests.

Morgana winces. “I sure hope not. She seemed terrified. No, this person might be the reason her reality is so distorted to begin with.”

“So… a person is the Treasure?”

“Not the Treasure so much as the catalyst. The Treasure should still be an object, but the two might be strongly connected. We might even find this other person with the Treasure.”

“Then we don’t even need Yui then, yeah?” Ryuji asks. “We just gotta find this other person, get the Treasure, and we should be good to go.”

“Well, we’re not going to get anywhere if she keeps disappearing into the walls.” Ann says.

“The same thing happened to us.” Haru says. “The Shadows we were fighting retreated and just disappeared behind a panel in the wall.”

“It completely changed the layout I was running.” Futaba adds. “It’ll be impossible to keep going if we don’t even know what direction we’re heading.”

“Would this be something we’d need to change her cognition for?” Makoto wonders. “She must have similar hiding spots in her house for her to be able to disappear like that.”

The lights dim, turning a low pulsing red.

The group jolts, immediately switching into defensive mode. With the moving walls and secret passageways, and ambush could be just about anywhere.

“At least it’s not a siren?” Haru says but her attempts to be optimistic fall on deaf ears.

“I’ve got a bad feeling about this.” Morgana says. “We might need to regroup.”

­­ “Thank God.” Ryuji mutters. “This place is creepin’ me the hell out.”

Akira doesn’t know why that comment in particular cuts so deep. Sure, it’s unfamiliar, but is it really creepy? If it weren’t for the Shadows, he’d find it rather cozy. Especially with all the secret passageways! Those sound like they’re just begging to be explored.

But he doesn’t say anything. Why would he? Instead, he just stuffs his hands in his pockets, and follows his teammates out of the Metaverse.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took a bit longer than planned! I've had to do some rearranging with plot points to get things to how I want it. Hopefully I've got things sorted out, and this fic will be my top priority until it's done!

Akira returns home barely standing.

His feelings of exhaustion only seemed to multiply on the train ride home. Ann and Ryuji still stick close, and Ann especially tries to keep an eye on him considering she saw firsthand how badly he’d faceplanted, but she doesn’t say anything.

He insists they don’t need to walk him home, that Futaba will be company enough and he can make the rest of the way to Leblanc back no worries. Even if Ryuji and Ann don’t believe him, they relent, probably because they’re just as tired as he is. The Metaverse just has a way of taking it out of you, even when your stay is short, even when the fighting is minimal.

To make the day a complete and total bust, he doesn’t even have the energy to ask Kawakami for a massage. The thought of the day going on any longer is almost enough to bring him to tears, so instead of doing something productive and responsible, he goes to bed early, ignoring the confused looks he keeps getting from Morgana.

Something hangs between them, something unspoken. At the very least, Morgana must realize something is wrong, even if he can’t pinpoint what.

Akira pulls the covers over his head, like that’s enough to block out the world, and falls into a fitful sleep.

* * *

The following day is unexciting, routine.

Kawakami does give him a questioning glance once or twice throughout homeroom, but he thinks it’s just because he looked like such a mess the day before. Ann and Ryuji are just as worried, keeping a watchful eye on him all throughout their lunch period, but at least they’re back to talking instead of just hanging nervously beside him.

Akira has to do better, be better. It’s not enough to get his act together if everyone is still hovering over him, waiting for the next time he hurts himself or breaks down. The group depends on him, not the other way around.

He’s hoping that if he keeps his head down, acts like things are fine, then everyone will start to back off. His fuzzy day is behind him, and while he still has some lingering exhaustion, it’s manageable. It’s always manageable.

His phone buzzes with a notification halfway through Ms. Chouno’s class.

_I think we’ve got a way around Yui’s Palace_ , Makoto’s text reads.

That was fast. Akira thought she’d at least wait until after school to do something to this degree, but he supposes he underestimated her.

 _Excellent!_ Yusuke replies. _I take it we’re meeting today, then?_

Akira takes that as his cue to jump in. He knows that the others are waiting for his response, but his fingers still shake as he hastily types a reply. There’s a tiny, gnawing fear that Makoto or someone else will take this job from him too. It’s stupid, but he has to feel like he’s in control somehow.

_Let’s do it,_ he responds.

 _Thank you_. Makoto responds. _Haru and I have a lot to share._

Haru jumps in. _We think we might’ve found out the secret to her Palace!_

The rest of the group shares their excitement, but all the while Makoto is typing, the notification staying on the screen for a particularly long time. For some reason, Akira’s stomach churns with dread.

Finally her message appears. _We will ask you all to try and keep an open mind, though_.

Oh, that doesn’t bode well.

* * *

“So it turns out Yui has a knack for getting into cramped spaces.” Makoto reports. She’s come fully prepared, with a manilla envelope full of papers. Of what, Akira has no idea, but he’s impressed regardless. “Apparently she was the queen of hide and seek when they were younger.”

“So those disappearing hallways are kinda like her hiding spots.” Ryuji says.

“We have to change her cognition, then.” Morgana says. “She needs to know that someone can still find her, or else the layout won’t stop changing.”

“That’s what we suspected.” Makoto replies. “We asked Nanami to put a note in one of those spots. Not a calling card, but it did have our logo, so hopefully that’ll stop the layout from changing.”

Morgana meows, clearly impressed. “Very clever. Couldn’t have done it better myself.”

Akira stays silent. While he’s grateful for Makoto picking up some of the slack, he can’t help but feel useless as a result. It’s not like he _wants_ to do everything, but what other use does he have, especially when he’s just recovering from a fuzzy day?

“So we should be able to navigate her Palace now, yes?” Yusuke asks.

“Well, that’s not everything we found…” Haru says, voice quiet. She shifts, looking to Makoto to complete the thought.

“The whole situation surrounding her Palace has been bothering me since we left last night.” Makoto explains. “Why would the first room of her Palace be so drastically different from the inside? I thought it might be the key to understanding more about her, so I ended up doing a little extra research and ended up going down a rather… interesting rabbit hole.”

Akira’s stomach twists as she pulls out a few sheets of paper, printouts of two different articles.

Everyone huddles around the table, but it feels as if the papers are specifically staring him down. “Understanding Age Regression.”

“On Coping Mechanisms: Age Regression.”

“What in the hell…?” Ryuji mutters.

“I was thinking that Ann was onto something by calling it a nursery, so I used that as a jumping off point. I thought maybe she was using her Palace as a method of returning to childhood, and lo and behold…” Makoto points to one of the printouts, the one Akira assumes she’s currently paraphrasing. “Age regression, as it says here, is a coping mechanism in which a person goes into a younger mindset. It’s most commonly seen as a symptom of PTSD and DID, but it can also be used for general stress relief. Some of the most common items related with age regression are stuffed toys and blankets, so I think it’s as good a bet as any.”

The group goes quiet, letting that information sink in. It’s a lot. One minute they think they’re dealing with a simple shut-in, and the next they’re getting lectured on a coping mechanism none of them have ever even heard of.

Yusuke takes the first article, brow furrowed as he reads through it. Futaba peeks over his shoulder, reading along with him, and if it bothers Yusuke, he doesn’t say anything about it. The other article remains untouched, sitting in front of Akira like it’s mocking him.

Akira’s eyes rove over the second article, picking up what snippets of information he can over the roaring blood in his ears.

_Regression can be involuntary… triggered by stress… Regressors may adopt behaviors of a toddler or younger… could include sucking on pens or fingers…_

Like… fuzzy days?

He’s not sure how to feel about there being a word for it. Relived? Horrified? Somewhere in the middle? Sure, he’s not alone in this, there’s a word for it, but at the same time, _there’s a word for it_. A word that all his teammates now know, paired with behaviors they might be able to detect.

“What, so like daddy kink stuff?” Futaba asks. She’s noticeably cringing, barely skimming the paragraphs. “Because as someone with an internet connection, I’ve seen enough of that in my lifetime.”

Ann makes a face. “Eww! Don’t even joke about that.” Her expression changes, going from vaguely sympathetic to creeped out.

Makoto rolls her eyes. “It says here that age regression isn’t sexual. That’s why I researched age _regression_ instead of age _play_. The last thing I was getting from her Palace was a sense of lust.”

“Still, you gotta admit it’s kinda weird.” Ryuji says. He looks uneasy, constantly shifting in his seat, like this entire conversation is the last thing he wants to sit through.

“Yeah, but it’s her coping mechanism.” Ann says. Since Makoto left the URLs at the top of each printout, she’s reading the article from her phone. “And the article says that it happens to everyone.”

“Yeah, but like, wanting your mom. Not all this.” Ryuji points out. From the way he’s looking at his phone, he must have the article pulled up on his phone too. Either that, or something that paints a much worse picture.

Akira doesn’t understand why Ryuji’s comments cut the deepest. Maybe because there’s such a bond between them, or because Ryuji will always look out for him on the fuzzy days, and that made Akira think he’d be understanding.

But now that there’s a word for it, a definition, half a dozen articles, he can’t deny it.

He’s an anomaly.

“It is a little excessive.” Haru admits. “But from everything we’ve seen so far, this might help explain why she’s hiding away.”

“There’s certainly quite the stigma attached to it.” Yusuke muses. He swaps out the article he’s holding for the other one and begins to read. Akira isn’t sure to feel scared or relieved that he’s taking research so seriously.

“Exactly.” Makoto says. “So if this is her way of dealing with whatever trauma, it makes sense why she’d try to hide away. Remember this is a hypothesis, not an answer. But I’m hoping that by understanding her better, we might be able to traverse her Palace easier.”

“So this regressing thing.” Ryuji says. “Yui’s probably doing it.”

“Perhaps not voluntarily.” Yusuke adds. “It would seem that whether she knows about this or not, she feels very ashamed of her childish behaviors.”

“Definitely sounds like she has some sort of anxiety.” Morgana agrees. “It would explain why the distortion is so heavy.”

“Mona…” Makoto begins. “So would the distorted desires be her desire to regress in the first place? And by extension, wouldn’t that mean that everyone who age regresses would have a Palace?”

“I don’t think it has anything to do with that.” Morgana replies. He shoots a look at Akira that shakes him to his core, almost as if Morgana _knows_ something, before continuing. “It sounds to me like the whole thing is harmless, so her distortion might be centered around her seeing regression as a bad thing.”

“So what? We just burst in there with printouts of these articles and tell her it’s okay?” Ryuji asks.

“Stranger things have happened.” Morgana hops off Akira’s shoulder and stalks to the opposite side of the table, near Makoto. “Getting through to her in the Metaverse might just be what we need to help her in the real world.”

Ann gives a little sigh of relief. “Good, I just wouldn’t feel right about fighting someone who’s basically a little kid.”

Even though she meant the words in kindness, they still cut deep for Akira. Because the underlying meaning comes through crystal clear. People who age regress are incapable of defending themselves. That even when their fuzzy days are over, they’re still “basically a little kid.”

But like everything else, he takes it and shoves it away where he doesn’t have to think about it. None of that matters because none of them know about _him_. And if he plays his cards right, they never will.

“If anything, this gives us a clearer idea of what we’re up against.” Makoto says. “Especially if we’re preparing for negotiation instead of combat.”

“Let’s go then.” Akira says, shooting up from his seat.

“Wait, right now?” Ann asks.

He nods. “We’re already here, and now that the hallways won’t change, why not?”

Scattered but hesitant murmurs greet him in response.

“Well, sure, if you think that’s best…” Ryuji says.

Akira doesn’t want to go, and if anyone else had suggested it, he’d make up some excuse not to do so, like school or work. But he _needs_ to prove himself to the others. He needs to show them that he’s capable of doing something befitting of a leader, that he can take charge and not crack under the pressure, and this is his only way of doing so.

He’ll prove himself again as their leader, but also as an adult. Someone they won’t call weird or wrinkle their noses at. He _will_ prove himself.

Even if it means breaking down in the process.


	5. Chapter 5

Yui is nowhere to be found as they enter the Palace.

Akira is sure she’s still running around somewhere, but she must’ve decided they were too dangerous to approach again. Maybe she’s watching them from the shadows right now.

“I don’t think it’d be a good idea to split up today. Not when we still don’t completely know what we’re up against.” Makoto is saying, and Akira forces himself to listen attentively.

Getting distracted thinking about Yui isn’t going to help anyone. Even if she is…well, like him.

“The Shadows we faced last time were weak.” Yusuke points out. “It may save us time and energy to split up.”

Makoto hums in thought, but turns to Akira for his verdict. “Joker?”

Akira nods. His fuzzy day is behind him, which he couldn’t be more grateful for. He could go well without Makoto’s nervous side-glances or Ann and Ryuji’s wordless conversations over his head, but it’s small potatoes compared to everything else. He’s dealt with the judgment of others, though he never expected that type of judgment from his own teammates.

“Let’s stick together,” he says finally. “We don’t know what we’ll find in these rooms.”

Makoto nods. “Good idea. Oracle? Has anything changed?”

“The layout is staying steady.” Futaba confirms. “Now all we need is a map.”

“Anything in the immediate area?” Akira asks, almost stumbling over his words in an attempt to get a word in before Makoto can. It’s a stupid thing to grapple for control over, but he has a long uphill battle ahead, especially with his wounded pride.

“We’ve got an unmapped room dead ahead.” Futaba answers. “And no enemies in the way.”

“For such cramped quarters, we certainly haven’t seen many enemies.” Yusuke says.

“Yeah, but I ain’t complaining.” Ryuji mutters. He’s obviously not concerned with the possibility of an ambush, lazily swinging his weapon over his shoulder as he walks, and the others follow suit.

It has to be because there are no enemy readings nearby. Akira refuses to believe otherwise, especially since the only alternative is that Yui can no longer possibly be a threat now that they know she regresses.

Still, as they walk along, he can’t help jumping at every movement, every out of place sound. Something worse has to be lurking. Something worse than weak Shadows.

“Hold up.” Futaba holds out an arm, blocking anyone from approaching the door.

Makoto tilts her head, frowning when she can find nothing immediately wrong with the door in front of them. “What’s wrong?”

“I don’t know.” Futaba answers. “I’m getting weird signals from inside this room.”

“What do you mean, weird?” Ann asks, finally taking her weapon from its holster.

Futaba shakes her head. “I don’t know. Just… weird. It’s not an enemy or anything, but I’m definitely detecting some sort of danger, but that could easily just be a trap. You might wanna be careful going in.”

Akira looks back to his team. The Shadows they’ve encountered so far have been easy in a fight, but that might not mean anything against a truly powerful opponent. Still, he has the utmost trust in his teammates, and gives a single nod. “Let’s go.”

Futaba grins and steps aside. Obviously it isn’t _that_ concerning, if she can still afford to be cocky. “After you.”

The room they walk into is pitch black, the light from outside only casting barely visible rays of light that barely reach the room’s interior. Not that it matters, because after a few seconds, after everyone is safely in the trap, the door slams shut behind them.

“Everyone, on your guard.” Akira says. Thank God it’s not a fuzzy day, or he would’ve broken down already. The dark, he likes. Cramped spaces, he’s fine with. But that’s when he has a choice. And to be trapped in here with something he doesn’t know…

He forces himself to breathe. His fuzzy day is behind him, forever if it has to be. He’s been trying not to think about it, but now that his friends would know what to look for, what signs to recognize in someone who age regresses, it might be best to keep his moments of weakness close to his chest.

“Anyone got a lighter?” Ryuji asks, shattering the fragile silence.

Maybe it’s nerves, but Akira can’t help answering him with a harsh shushing noise. “If something’s coming, we need to able to hear it.”

Ryuji doesn’t respond. No one does. He guesses no one had that lighter he was asking for.

The noise doesn’t come right away.

In fact, for many agonizing, terrifying minutes, the Phantom Thieves sit cloaked in darkness, lined up like a bunch of sitting ducks only because it’s better than making the first move.

Akira wonders if this is part of Yui’s cognition as well. Hiding in the dark is, obviously, but the idea of being trapped with something else—how does that fit in? Is it supposed to, even? He knows sometimes Palaces can mash unrelated or tangentially related ideas into similar areas, but he supposes they won’t know for sure until whatever is in here shows itself.

A chilling giggle cuts through the silence.

Akira freezes, braced for the worst. An ambush, perhaps.

“What’s wrong with you?” the voice asks. It’s quiet, barely above a whisper, but the harshness in its tone is chilling.

“Uhh… Oracle?” Ryuji asks. He’s making an effort to stamp the quiver out of his voice, but the sudden new presence serves to make everyone unnerved.

“I’m hacking into the lighting system as we speak!” Futaba answers, her voice pitching into a panic even louder than Ryuji’s. “Just try holding out for a few more minutes!”

Her footsteps pound as she retreats, but Akira doesn’t tell her to be quiet. It doesn’t matter anymore.

Whatever is in here knows exactly where they are.

“Are you really just gonna walk away again?” another voice asks, disgusting rolling off its tone. In the darkness, something creaks, something moans. Something clatters. Whatever’s speaking, it’s crawling closer.

Akira takes an instinctive step back, only to bump into Haru. Or at least he thinks it’s Haru based on the height. There’s nowhere to run, no way to shrink back.

“We’ll have to talk about this eventually, you know.” Another voice, another set of movements. Its footsteps are silent—or worse, it’s not making any at all.

“Panther, get some light in here!” Akira says. The panic in his own voice is evident. He just hopes his teammates won’t hold it against him.

“Carmen!”

The flames dance briefly, cutting through the darkness in a circular pattern. It’s all that’s needed to illuminate the hundreds of dolls. The light casts gaunt shadows over their faces, making their expressions almost mocking. And is it Akira’s imagination, or are they looking right at him?

“Why do you act so weird?” a doll asks. Its lips flap, not quite matching up to the words it’s saying. So that’s where the voices are coming from.

“Honestly, you act so immature,” another says.

“Why are you crying?”

“It’s not that big of a deal.”

“You’re just being a baby.”

Akira can’t help but find everything vaguely familiar. His parents said similar things when he was younger, before he learned it’s easier to just keep your feelings to yourself and get by saying as little as possible.

The voices continue on, getting louder and angrier they longer they go on. The lines overlap, tripping each other in a contest to see who can cut the deepest the quickest.

“God, figure it out on your own.”

“Just go by yourself! It’s not a big deal!”

“Why do you expect everyone to baby you? We have our own problems too!”

“Just shut up already! I’m sick of hearing about it!”

Akira can barely restrain his scream as little plastic hands lock around his neck.

“I know what you are.”

A second pair of hands join the first, pointed plastic fingers digging into his cheek. “You know that’s no excuse, right?”

“I can’t help you all the time, you know,” a third voice chimes in.

The voices pile on, getting louder and more intense, their little fingers yanking at his skin and clothes until the scratches come away wet with blood.

“You’re not a good leader,” one of them says, and suddenly that’s what all of them are saying. Taunting, jeering, clawing desperately at his skin.

Akira doesn’t register how badly he wants to move until he’s lashing out into the darkness, knife in hand. The blade makes contact, biting into silicon, and the tornado of screaming loses a single voice.

“Something just changed on the readings!” Futaba yells. “What happened?”

“I think I stabbed one of them!” Akira replies. He stabs the air over his shoulder, catching another doll in the face.

It screams, something akin to a deflating balloon, and releases its grip on his collar. The pain ebbs, if only slightly.

“Dude, they’re killable!” Ryuji cries.

“Everyone take ‘em out!” Futaba commands. “Melee attacks only, we don’t know what anything else will do!”

Akira ducks, barely evading the snap of Ann’s whip as it sails over his head. It takes out maybe three dolls at once, if the sudden dip in volume and taunts is anything to go by.

Fighting back almost comes as a relief. It has for a while now—combat in the Metaverse is sometimes the only way he can take out his frustrations—but now especially, to take all those voices in his head, put them in front of him, and to be able to _shut them up_ , is a catharsis he’s never known before.

Rapidly, the sound fades, and with it, their ability to aim. If any dolls are left, they’re being completely silent, and Akira has no means of finding them in the pitch-black darkness.

He takes one shaky breath, then another, and the fuzziness in his brain fades. He can’t let himself falter here, not now.

Something bumps into his shoulder, and after a dreadful second, he realizes it’s Ryuji. Despite his attempts to stay strong, he lets himself lean on his friend, just a little.

“How did you know you could do that?” Ryuji asks.

Akira shrugs. “Just a lucky guess.” His teammates don’t need to know that he was on the verge of breaking down in tears if he’d let that go on any longer.

What does it say about him that his first instinct was to lash out with violence? Maybe he is the dangerous criminal everyone always pegs him for.

“Very lucky.” Yusuke agrees. His voice inches closer, and suddenly a new hand is on Akira’s shoulder.

“Man, we weren’t too far apart, huh?” Ann says. She’s right beside Akira, but he still feels her hand on his arm regardless. “Good thing we didn’t end up hitting each other, huh?”

“Speak for yourself.” Ryuji groans. “Someone almost kneecapped me twice.”

“Sorry.” Haru mumbles.

“I’ve got it!” Futaba cries, and the overhead lights flicker on.

The room that greets them is half a step from being a horror nightmare.

It’s lined with metal slabs and trays upon trays of medical equipment, all occupying five to ten dolls a piece.

Ragdolls, different from the ones that just attacked them, are sprawled out on miniature gurneys, sporting missing limbs, ripped open stomachs, damaged faces and broken stitches in their smiles. Some still have scalpels dug into their chests. Others sit in nothing more than scraps, littered across the floor.

“How macabre.” Yusuke comments.

Down at their feet is more of the same. Scraps of ragdolls and silicon Barbies. Akira has a bad feeling about this. Because if they were already so damaged, maybe dealing the same type of damage wouldn’t be enough to stop them.

“It’s a _stuffie hospital!_ ” Futaba gasps.

Confused looks across the board. “A… what?” Ann asks.

“Did you guys…” Futaba trails off, quickly remembering the gaggle of bad childhoods she’s talking to. “When I was little and my stuffed animals would get torn, my mom would always make me feel better by making it into a game. She’d always act like we were in a medical drama and we had to do surgery right away. That way I’d be distracted and she could get them fixed as soon as possible.”

Yusuke nods along, obviously impressed. “How clever.”

Akira forcefully shoves away the cold spike of jealousy that blooms in his chest. It’s not right for him to be mad at Futaba for having fond memories of her childhood, especially when they were ripped away from her so painfully. Still, he wishes he had some sort of memory like that to hold onto. Maybe Futaba feels differently. Is it better to remember something you can never have back, or to go through life never having that happiness to begin with?

“So Yui must have similar experiences.” Makoto says. She floats along the rows of tables, eyeing each of the dolls in turn.

She finally stops on a large bear, but before anyone can ask what she’s doing, she grabs the nearest scalpel and slices it from neck to groin.

Ryuji physically recoils, head swiveling like he expects vengeful dolls to come crawling out of the woodwork. “Dude, what the hell?”

“Just as I thought.” She slides a rolled-up piece of paper from the bear’s stomach.

“How do you think of _that?_ ” Ann asks.

“Simple. The bear had stitches like it had been sewn back up. Besides, there had to be something important in here if there were so many dolls guarding it.”

Everyone gathers around her, looking over her shoulders as she unfurls the mystery item.

It’s a crude approximation of a map, crafted out of construction paper and a rainbow of crayons. Someone’s taken scissors to the edges, cutting random notches in the sides to make it look more like a weathered treasure map.

“Look like we finally got our map.” Makoto says, passing it over to Akira. Just as Futaba explained, the room that they’re in is marked “Stuffie Hospital.”

The rest of the Palace is a series of long corridors. Some are marked dead ends, some have hidden entrances, and others have fresh pen markings over them, as if the new walkways had been drawn into existence just recently.

“Does the map change with the layout?” Yusuke asks.

“Looks like it.” Morgana says. “We might still have trouble, but this’ll make getting around a lot easier.”

Akira traces his finger over the paths, taking note of the major rooms. There’s the entrance, of course, the room they’re in, and three other unmarked rooms. However, none of these look to be the Treasure Room. In fact, the Treasure isn’t marked anywhere on this map.

Ryuji speaks up first. “Um, is anyone seeing where the Treasure is?” he asks.

“We might not have the entire map.” Haru suggests.

“But then where’s the cutoff point? It’s kinda small, ain’t it?”

“That just means her distortions haven’t had much time to manifest.” Morgana answers. “The Palace could be new, or her distortions alone aren’t that powerful. You see this a lot in Palace owners who aren’t using their power to hurt others.”

“And the fact that there is no Treasure marked on the map?” Yusuke asks.

“It could mean that the Treasure is mobile.” Morgana says.

“Like, that the Treasure is Yui herself?” Futaba asks. “Because I saw those maps of my Palace and the Treasure Room remained the same.”

“Maybe Yui doesn’t even know where her Treasure is.” Makoto suggests. “After all, this map is made up of her cognition, right? Maybe it’s something she doesn’t have anymore or lost.”

“You mean that whatever is really in command here might have the Treasure.” Haru says.

Yusuke hums in thought, squinting at the map. If he disapproves of the artistry, he doesn’t say it. “For a Palace Ruler, she doesn’t have much power here. Fitting, considering her circumstances, but rather concerning.”

“I don’t like what that could mean.” Futaba says. She’s adding the map info to her currently layout, and from what Akira can see from her holograms, she’s routing out the best possible plan of action. “We should keep moving before anything has the chance to change.”

Ann looks startled. “But we changed Yui’s cognition.”

“But she doesn’t have nearly as much control as we thought she did.” Futaba retorts. “What if she wasn’t even the one changing it?”

“Then we find a workaround.” Akira answers, cutting through his team’s worries. Those concerns are valid, but he’ll be the only one worrying about them if he can help it. His team needs to focus on traversing the Palace, and he needs to focus on being the dependable leader.

Without prompting, his mind immediately goes back to the dolls. It’s nothing he hasn’t heard before, nothing he doesn’t already know. No one likes to be completely depended upon, not like that. That’s why he’s always made an effort to make himself the dependable one, so he’d never end up on the other side of the doll’s biting comments.

At this point, it’s just in his nature.

“Before we go…” Haru trails off, nervously shifting from foot to foot. “Were the dolls saying awful things to everyone, or was it just me?”

“Nah, I felt it too.” Ryuji agrees. “Kept muttering about how stupid I was and shit.”

“Oh!” Haru’s eyes widen. “They were whispering different things to me.”

A chorus of agreements answers her. No one looks up from their feet.

“Self-worth issues in Palaces are always hard to get through.” Morgana sympathizes. “If we’re not careful, something like that could swallow us whole.”

There’s a pregnant pause as everyone lets those words sink in. Futaba is biting her lip, and Ryuji is pointedly not making eye contact with anyone. There’s no doubt they’ve been feeling it too, the ripples of agitation telling them they’re not good enough. Akira fears it will only get stronger the closer they get to the Treasure.

“Joker, are you okay?” Ann asks, blessedly changing the subject. “You’re covered in scratches.”

“It’s nothing. Just the dolls.” Akira thumbs at the blood welling on his cheek, ignoring the sting.

“Wait, those effing things did that?” Ryuji asks.

“No one else was grabbed, were they?” Makoto asks.

“No, they didn’t touch me at all.” Haru answers. “That’s why I didn’t strike first; I thought they might react violently.”

“I thought the same thing.” Yusuke says.

Before Akira can answer, Ann is right by his side, placing a gentle arm on his shoulder. “Here, let me heal you up.”

Healing magic is different. Sure, the pain disappears and any physical evidence of harm is gone, but the exhaustion always remains. Not physically, but mentally, like his mind can’t bear the prospect of being beaten down yet again.

Still, he’d be lying if he said healing magic didn’t bring some form of comfort. It’s different for each person, but Ann’s healing magic is like a warm hug on a cold day.

The warmth retreats far too soon. “There! How’s that?”

Akira nods. At least the pain is gone. “Much better. Thanks.” He turns to everyone else. “We have three rooms left to investigate. Let’s get moving.”

“Right.” Makoto leaves first. Despite her poise, it’s clear she, like everyone else, was unsettled by the contents of this room.

Before he leaves, Akira glances up one last time. The shelves, for the most part, are empty, the remnants of the dolls sitting in ribbons and scraps by his feet.

Except for one lone doll, sitting on a shelf directly over the doorway. Her hair is a deep red, her dress the same color, but what really draws Akira’s attention is her eyes.

Her eyes are bright and alert, almost as if she’s actually seeing. And is it just him, or are its eyes looking right at him?

No one’s come to get him yet, so he might as well test his hypothesis.

He paces to one end of the room, then the other, noting how the doll’s head always seems turned perfectly in his direction.

It’s not his imagination that the doll’s eyes are moving, following his movements closely. As if realizing it’s been found out, the doll shifts, letting its head loll to the right.

Whatever is in charge of this Palace, be it Yui or something else entirely, it’s watching them.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've ping-ponged between stress writing to euphoria writing in the past few days, enjoy the update

The doll room behind them, the Phantom Thieves continue their exploration of Yui’s Palace.

The Shadows here are… oddly docile. The select few that Akira even sees move slowly. It wouldn’t be hard to sneak right past them, but it feels weird, almost like cheating, to not fight any Shadows. So Akira gives the signal, and the resulting fights last barely more than a few minutes.

Should he be worried? With how smoothly things are going, it feels like he should be. But maybe that’s just how Yui’s Palace is. Her distortions aren’t particularly strong, so it makes sense that the Shadows might follow suit.

They follow the map to the nearest room. It’s small, almost like a safe room, but as they approach, it’s clear it’s anything but. A steel door sits in front of them, years of grime stained into its surface.

“What are the readings like, Oracle?” Akira asks. He keeps his voice low just in case someone was waiting on the other side. Waiting. Listening.

Futaba hums in thought. “Quiet. Nothing like the last room, if that’s what you’re asking. No strong Shadows, from the feel of it.”

“That doesn’t mean anything in this Palace.” Morgana reminds them. “Anything can be behind that door.”

Akira nods. He’s already braced for the worst.

Ryuji and Yusuke push open the door, giving way to a room that’s surprisingly bright. Unlike the previous room, every corner is illuminated. The first thing Akira does is check for signs of any more dolls, only to find that there are none. It does little to comfort him, because they could be hiding anywhere—and probably are. But at least they won’t have to fight back another flurry of them.

The room is empty, save for a single shrine on the opposite wall. The candles are lit, glowing dimly in the already overwhelming light of the room.

Akira gives a cursory glance around the room, just to make doubly sure that there are no watchful eyes, before approaching. The letter placed up front, settled gently in front of a portrait of a smiling man, catches his eye first.

_Ryota Takeda_ , the letter reads. It sits unopened, unread.

“Is this her father?” Yusuke asks.

Akira turns the letter over and over. There’s no address or return address, so it seems like that’s the case. They look strikingly similar, with the same dark hair and hollow cheeks. He looks happy enough, but there’s an odd sadness in his eyes.

“Nanami didn’t mention anything about him being dead, but I don’t suppose it’s out of the realm of possibility.” Makoto says.

“Guys, look at the offerings.” Futaba says.

Akira feigns interest, as if he hadn’t been making a point to _not_ look at them. They may be in pieces, mostly by what looks like scissors, but he recognizes them on sight.

“Pacifiers?” Ann asks. She picks one up by the ring, careful to avoid touching it too much.

“What’s left of ’em.” Ryuji directs his next question at Makoto. “This is an age regression thing too, yeah?”

“Well, yes, but these aren’t sized for an adult mouth.” Makoto points out. “And why are they torn apart?”

“Based on the last room we were in, I’m guessing this has something to do with another trauma.” Yusuke says. He tilts his head, observing the shrine like it’s some twisted art piece.

Maybe he’s got the right idea. Palaces are mostly metaphorical after all. There’s probably some missing piece to this that Akira can’t piece together. When he’s sure no one’s looking, he tucks the letter into the inside of his jacket.

“Um, guys?” Futaba asks.

Akira hates that tone of worry in her voice. “Something wrong?” He checks again for watching eyes, but nothing has changed since the last time he looked. Is he getting paranoid? Or is it only a matter of time before they come crawling out of the woodwork?

“The readings just changed.” Futaba confirms. “Something is closing in, and fast!” Her visor is alight with information, and she’s started to slowly back away from the shrine. That can’t be good.

“What do you mean, something?” Makoto asks, right as the ground beneath them rumbles. The overhead lights flash a warning red, but strangely enough, the warning siren from before does not go off.

“Something as in something way stronger than every other Shadow we’ve seen!” Futaba backs up further, trying to get away from the epicenter of the tremors, when the floor splits open beneath her. She screams, but as she plummets down, the floor closes up over her, and the sound is no longer audible.

“Oracle!” Haru brandishes her weapon, but before she can take any action, the floor splits open again, giving way to dozens of disembodied arms clawing their way up.

“ _YOU WOULDN’T EVEN ATTEND HIS FUNERAL?_ ” the voices screech. Unlike the dolls before them, it’s a collective force, a hundred voices screaming the same thing at once.

“Holy shit!” Ryuji yells. He doesn’t even pause before taking out his gun, spraying the writhing arms with bullets.

Arms flinch back on impact, but it’s not long before the ones struck are replaced with more arms. In fact, it seems like they’re multiplying.

“Fall back!” Makoto cries.

“ _HE’S YOUR FATHER,_ ” the voices scream. The rift opens wider, and the arms shuffle forward in a desperate frenzy.

“Off the floor!” Akira cries. There isn’t much in the room, but they might be able to hang from the walls or ceiling if they have enough of an anchor.

Luckily, he’s able to use a stray pipe as support, even if it does leave him dangling right above the gaping maw of arms and hands.

“ _FAMILY IS THE MOST IMPORTANT THING!_ ” the voices scream. The hands stretch out the rest of the room, curving politely around the shrine. They snatch at the open air, as if it’s only a matter of time before something falls right into their grasp. Maybe they’re right.

“What now?” Ryuji asks. He’s pushed himself back into a corner, and his legs are already shaking from the strain.

“I don’t know how long my arms can hold.” Ann says. She’s not too far off from Joker, but threading her whip through the same pipe means she’ll be able to hold tight for a little longer than him.

“I doubt they’ll be going away anytime soon.” Yusuke agrees. Somehow he was able to lodge his katana deep into the wall, giving him a semi-stable foothold.

“ _YOU JUST LEFT HIM TO DIE!_ ” the voices continue.

“Everyone just hold tight.” Makoto says. She’s trying to keep calm, but her voice is breathless and shaky. “They should calm down soon, right?”

“Mona, what even is this?” Haru asks. She’ll probably be the first one to slip, judging by how shakily her axe is embedded in the wall. She must’ve copied Yusuke’s idea, but didn’t have the time to execute it properly.

“I don’t know.” Morgana says, shaking his head. He’s perched on Haru’s shoulder. “I’ve never seen Shadows like this before.”

They’re running out of time. It’s clear from his teammates’ faces that they’re terrified, backed into a corner with no way out. Their only option is to hold tight, and they can only do that for so long.

Akira looks down at the chasm below them, praying for some opening.

The space between the individual arms, however slight, reveals something lurking below. It’s a vast darkness, but Akira can see the twitches of movement underneath. Wherever Futaba is, that seems like a good place to start.

“I’ve got an idea.” Akira says. “Everyone hold tight, run if you have to.” He doesn’t elaborate further, letting his hands slip from the pipe.

“Joker!”

The others join in, but their voices are instantly muffled as the floor snaps shut overhead.

He falls for only a moment before something forcibly slows him, to the point where it doesn’t feel like he’s moving at all. His surroundings are pitch-black, but it feels almost like he’s being held.

Did the arms follow him down? Are they what’s now breaking his fall? If that’s the case, at least his team should be able to get down from the ceiling now.

The hands persist, petting his hair, pinching his cheek. Some stay firm on his shoulders, guiding him, while others try to hold his hand. He fights off the instinct to bat them away, not knowing what kind of provocation would bring back the screaming, as he settles into a standing position.

Stranger still, is it because they… know? A couple of the dolls had whispered about “knowing what he was,” and that, combined with the looks Yui had given him, paint a rather hopeless picture.

Some way, the Shadows of this Palace know he regresses just like Yui.

Is it written all over his face, or can they sense it in his heart somehow? And if it’s that easy for Shadows to detect, how long does he have until his friends figure it out?

Akira shakes his head, trying to dispel the negative thoughts before they have a chance to build.

He might be able to use that to his advantage somehow. Like right now, the fact that the hands are kind, if patronizing, might help him find Futaba.

“Focus,” he mutters, trying to bring the world around him into clarity. He’s not able to sense much, aside from a few obstacles. Are they arms? Or maybe whatever beast they’re attached to?

When he proceeds forward, the arms holding onto him don’t follow. They linger, and he can’t shake the odd thought that they’re somehow _watching_ him, but they let him go. He treads lightly, avoiding touching too much.

The more he tries to tune into the silence, the more little voices try to worm their way in.

“ _It’s all your fault, you let him die, it’s all your fault, you let him die_ …” and on and on and on.

Akira focuses on what he can see. If he listens to the voices too closely, he just might start to believe them.

A new outline comes into view, the first one so far that’s shaped like a person. That’s when he finally hears the new voice in the chorus.

“It’s not my fault.” Futaba is whispering. Her hands clutch her head as she folds into herself, like she’s trying to shield herself from the outside world. “It’s not my fault, it’s not my fault, it’s not my fault.”

“Oracle.” Akira doesn’t dare raise his voice above a whisper, but he breaks into a jog to make it over to her.

She doesn’t even acknowledge his footsteps, even when they’re right in front of her. “ _It’snotmyfaultit’snotmyfaultit’snotmyfaultit’snotmyfaultit’snotmyfault._ ”

Akira crouches in front of her. “It’s not your fault,” he agrees. Can she even hear him? It’s like this area… whatever it is, is dampening all their senses. If she wasn’t listening for it, would she even hear him?

Futaba shakes her head. “But what if it is? I said it wasn’t.” She takes in a shaky breath and goes back to mumbling to herself.

“Oracle,” Akira tries, but he knows he won’t get her attention even as he says it. She’s too far gone for codenames. “Futaba!”

Futaba flinches violently, jolting against his touch. She takes a shallow, ragged breath that seems to center her. “Akira?”

“Yeah.”

He doesn’t even have a chance to flinch before she’s launched herself at him, clinging to him like he’s her only lifeline.

Akira hugs her back. “Are you alright?”

“I can’t—I don’t—where are we?”

“I don’t know.” Futaba could stand for a little bit more comfort, but Akira doesn’t want to risk sitting out in the open like this. He pulls back, still holding onto her hands so he can guide her to her feet. “But I’ll get us out of here.”

“I’m getting… weird readings in here.” Futaba says.

“Tell me about them.” Akira responds, trying to keep his voice casual. Maybe if she has something else to focus on, it’ll help her stay calm. Hopefully that’ll keep him calm as well. He takes her back in the direction he came from.

“Well, it’s the same reading I get for Shadows, except it’s almost as if this whole _place_ is a Shadow.”

Akira hums in thought. “Was this the same reading you got from the room we were in?”

“No, that was different too. We’re below that room, right? Actually, let me check that. I’ll see if I can get some map readings.”

“Any ladders or staircases nearby?”

Futaba offers a half-hearted chuckle. “Doesn’t look it.”

Something twitches at their feet, emitting a low grunt as it moves, and the two of them freeze.

Akira keeps his hand tight around Futaba’s, hoping to ground her. He knows with her especially, it just takes a couple nudges to put her back into her own head.

“Don’t wake it, moving quietly in the dark…” Futaba trails off, not finishing her thought.

She doesn’t need to. Akira knows exactly what’s going through her mind. Tiptoeing in the middle of the night to the kitchen, swiping a spoonful of peanut butter and praying she doesn’t get caught, it must feel familiar. Dangerously familiar.

That’s fine. He’ll be strong enough for the both of them.

They continue on, not daring to speak anything other than that. The arms stir less, so long as they stay very still when they need to.

The space feels less and less real the more they press on. They haven’t even found a wall, and at this point, it feels doubtful they will. Are they even moving? Or are they walking on the Metaverse equivalent of a treadmill?

Something smacks into his face.

Akira halts, so suddenly that Futaba stumbles. While nothing stirs, she certainly doesn’t press her luck. Her hand is stock still in Akira’s.

Its silhouette isn’t the same as the other objects. It’s almost like a rope.

Akira gives the rope two small tugs, and after a moment, gets two back. He’s choosing to believe that it’s his team manning the other end, and not any of the possible troubling alternatives.

“Here. Grab on.” He guides one of Futaba’s hands to the rope, and secures the other one around his shoulder. She isn’t very heavy, so he has no problem supporting her weight as whatever’s on the other end of the rope registers the new weight and starts pulling them up.

As his feet lift off the ground, the arms lying dormant finally stir.

They move slow, almost groggily, at first, but they quickly become aware and rush to retrieve what they’ve lost. Fingers scrape at their ankles, trying to find purchase, something they can grab onto.

He can finally hear voices again. Familiar ones.

“Pull!” Ann is screaming.

“I’m pullin’ as hard as I can!” Ryuji replies.

Everything gives at once. A hand grabs onto his ankle right as Ann and Ryuji give the whip another mighty yank, and he and Futaba breach the surface.

He doesn’t know why, but he gasps for breath, like he’d been trapped underwater. Yusuke has one of the arms pinned to the wall, and that tiny crack was enough for Ann to lower her whip through. The hand grabbing onto him doesn’t have much room to pursue, and Haru is able to beat it back into the void.

“Joker, Oracle!” Makoto is by his side in a second, sliding his arm over her shoulders. “Come on, we have to get out of this room!”

On cue, the floor roars to life, splitting open with a cry.

“ _YOU’RE A TERRIBLE DAUGHTER!_ ” the voices screech. Akira tightens his grip on Futaba’s hand, making sure she’s physically unable to stop.

Haru and Ryuji hold the door open for everyone, throwing their bodies against it to make it close faster. Behind them, Akira can hear the sound of screaming, and fists beating against metal.

He wonders if this monster, like the others, are confined to a certain room, or if it could follow them. It’s useless to think about. The only thing they can do is keep running.

“A safe room is up ahead.” Futaba says breathlessly.

The gang doesn’t stop until they’re in the safe room, the door bolted shut behind them.

The quiet hits them like a ton of bricks. The sudden shift from shrieking to the calm and quiet is almost eerie, like it’s warning of something worse to come. Akira doesn’t know if he can take it anymore. Not tonight.

Futaba’s sob breaks the silence.

“Hey, shh. It’s okay.” Ann soothes in an unbelievably soft voice. She and Haru act simultaneously, putting their arms around Futaba in a protective, sisterly embrace.

Yusuke is by her side in a second. “Oracle, what’s wrong?”

It makes sense that they’d be fussing over her. She’s the youngest one here, and most of them have seen firsthand what she’s gone through. She’s getting the attention because she deserves it, and he’s the leader who has a reputation to uphold and a duty to be strong for everyone else.

“It’s just… what the voices were saying reminded me of my mom.” Futaba whimpers. “It was like I was stuck in my own Palace again.”

“Oracle…” Yusuke is truly at a loss for words, so much so that saying her name—her code name—sounds fumbled. In the end, the most he can do is take her hand.

Futaba holds his hand back, her knuckles going white from the force. “I can’t come back here,” she sniffs.

“We won’t make you.” Akira replies. “We’ll find a way to manage without our navigator.”

“But what about the Palace?”

“We’ll find a way through. Tomorrow.” Akira isn’t thrilled about the idea of having to spend another day traversing this Palace, but he can tell his teammates won’t make it much further.

Ryuji is out of his seat in an instant. “We’re leaving?”

Futaba just had a breakdown, yes, but Makoto and Haru are a little uneasy as well. He can only imagine the dolls whispered something to them that cut deep, and he won’t push them any further than that.

“We can’t keep going on like this.” Neither can he, but that doesn’t matter. It’s the rest of the team he has to look out for. “We’ll regroup tomorrow and finish this.”

It doesn’t go unnoticed how everyone perks up at the idea of finishing Yui’s Palace, so now that Akira has said it, it has to be true.

Tomorrow, they’ll find a path to the Treasure, send the calling card, and put an end to this Palace.

They have to.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All the kind comments y'all left on the last chapter had me like ;-; so I wanted to get this chapter out to you guys as soon as possible. It's a little shorter, I hope that's okay!

Akira makes sure to walk Futaba home that night.

She’s exhausted, barely able to stand, so Akira lets her lean on him for support. Shortly after leaving the Metaverse, Futaba scrubbed her face dry, cleaned off her glasses, and completely clammed up. She hasn’t said a thing, and no one wants to force her.

“It’s okay if you don’t want to be alone.” Akira says as they approach the Sakura residence. A nagging voice in the back of his mind whispers he should take his own advice, but he ignores it.

“No, I-I’m fine.” Futaba mutters. Her eyes are still glassy with unshed tears, but she hasn’t cried since they left the Palace.

“Futaba—”

Futaba cuts him off. “Please.” She breaks off physical contact to stumble to her front door, her knuckles white gripping the doorknob. “I just wanna be alone right now.”

Akira takes a small step back, trying to pretend like the rejection doesn’t sting. After all, who is he if he can’t help? “Okay. You’re okay.” Who he’s trying to convince, he isn’t sure.

“Thanks.” She won’t look him in the eyes as she flees back inside.

Akira stays where he is, even as the door closes, even as the lights inside flicker on. She must be getting some food first. She’s always hungry after a Metaverse run.

“I’ll stay with her.” Morgana offers, hopping out of Akira’s bag. “You just take care of yourself, alright?”

Akira gives a single nod, knowing his work for the night is far from over.

The walk from the Sakura household to Leblanc isn’t a long one, but it takes a toll on his aching legs regardless. He feels just shy of collapsing to the ground and sitting there until someone comes to get him as he walks into the empty café.

“You’re back.” When Sojiro glances up, his expression immediately softens. “What’s with the long face?”

“You might wanna check on Futaba later.” Akira tells him. “She was having a hard time earlier but wouldn’t talk to any of us about it.” A half-truth, but the best he can manage. Even if Sojiro can’t know the full truth, he deserves to know that Futaba is hurting and needs comfort.

Suddenly Sojiro is at full attention, his face painted with concern. “Is she okay?”

“I think so. Just—check on her.”

“Right.” Sojiro shakes his head, but offers a brief half-smile. “Thank you. Close up for me, will you?”

“Sure thing.” Is it bad that even now, he’s envious of Futaba? To have someone willing to fuss over him, to drop everything just to make sure he’s okay and just _sit_ with him when he’s feeling sad and—no, he can’t dwell on the thought. It’s a bad, ugly, selfish thought to have, especially when someone he loves is hurting.

The door closes with a click and a jingle of the bell, and Akira lets out a long, audible sigh. Now that there’s no one to pretend for, the exhaustion really hits him. How is he even still in one piece?

They’re no longer just fuzzy days, something minor where he has to watch what he says. They’re a real danger, now that he has a word for it, now that _the friends that depend on him_ have a word for it. Not to mention Makoto is one of the most observant people he’s ever met.

It feels like he’s trying to outlast a countdown, ticking down to the inevitable.

Akira busies himself with a cup of coffee, ignoring the exhaustion creeping into his bones. He’ll sleep fitfully tonight, if at all, so he’s going to try and put that off for as long as possible.

As he waits for his coffee to cool, he retrieves the letter from the inside of his jacket. He still can’t believe no one noticed him taking this, but then again, it was rather unassuming, wasn’t it? He isn’t even sure what he’ll find, but it has to be something, right? If not a hint to figuring out Yui’s Palace, then maybe some insight into her regression? Maybe a tip or two on how to get away with regressing when you feel like you’re drowning?

He carefully peels back the flap of the envelope, not wanting to rip anything.

Two sheets of paper, creased into thirds, sit inside. While one is neatly folded, the other is not. The sloppily folded paper sits in front, a letter written in a handwriting he doesn’t recognize.

_Yui,_

_It would mean so much to me if you wrote back. It’s been so long since I’ve heard from you, and even more if you’d call me. I miss the sound of your voice._

_I hope you’re doing okay with the new job, and that Nanami is doing okay too. She won’t answer my calls either._

_I’m going to be honest, I don’t know how much time I have left. The doctors are saying it doesn’t look good. It would mean a lot to me if you came to visit, even if to just say goodbye. Just please text me so I can have your number again. I just want to see you one last time._

- _Love you, Dad_

The next sheet of paper does have recognizable handwriting. Akira immediately recognizes it as Nanami’s.

_Father,_

_This needs to stop. I’m sorry for being blunt, but I’m going to have to ask you not to show up at our house anymore. You scared us both._

_I’m writing this in Yui’s stead because, as I’ve emphasized, she’s strictly no-contact until further notice._

_We’ve laid out our terms clearly. If you want to work on rebuilding our relationship, you have to attend therapy with us, and you have to go to addiction counseling on your own. If you can’t do that, please don’t contact us again._

_-Nanami Takeda_

Akira bites back the rising bile in his throat. He feels sick as he folds the letters, slipping them back into the envelope.

Was this real? It didn’t feel distorted. In fact, it feels like a standout memory, something that Yui read through so many times that it’ll forever be burned into her memory.

So what happened between her and her father to make her not even attend his funeral? Nanami mentioned them moving out, but she didn’t say much more than that. Had their dad been abusive? It makes sense that she’d want to regress, if her childhood memories had been soured by knowing her father was a monster.

The coffee in front of him is suddenly too bitter, and he pushes the cup away. Maybe caffeine wasn’t a great idea when his head is already pounding.

He needs something for his headache.

Or maybe he just needs to not sit still. He ignores the fact that every muscle aches in favor of walking to the drugstore in Shibuya.

The buzz of people doesn’t help things, but at least it’s a reminder he’s not alone. A crowd can hold him accountable for his actions, can keep him from breaking down. He knows it’s inevitable, especially if he has time to sit alone with his thoughts, but he wants to at least push that off until Yui’s Palace has been cleared.

Akira picks the cheapest brand of painkillers he can find. Metaverse cash has been covering most of the group’s weapons upgrades, but that doesn’t mean he’s going to break the bank on some ibuprofen. You never know when disaster will strike, and he has to be careful with the money he has.

But right as he’s about to pick up a sleep aid, something else catches his eye.

A row of pacifiers hangs on the rack beside him. Akira digs his nails into his palms, trying to focus through the pain. That’s how he knows he’s doing bad, when his concentration starts veering out of control, when things start getting _fuzzy_.

Now he finally had a name for it.

It’s a coping mechanism. Age regression. It’s more common than people think, but that doesn’t stop people from thinking it’s weird regardless.

He knew, and so did his friends. They thought it was weird. Creepy. It’s so easy to mix their words with the ones from the dolls, to create the perfect storm of self-loathing.

Part of him wants to pitch a fit about it. Why is it so wrong for him to want a stuffie? Don’t they know they’re just judging people, the very same thing they’re mad at the world for inflicting on them? It isn’t fair, but he can’t tamp down the fear that if he were to call them out on it, he might irreparably fracture the friend group. They’d know for sure then. What he was. And they might just leave him too.

Before he can talk himself out of it, he snatches the red pacifier and the teddy bear on the shelf beside it and marches to the counter.

It’ll just be his own shameful secret, he supposes. If he can’t turn to his friends to be understanding, he’ll just have to understand himself. Nobody has to know.

He watches the clerk scan his items, waiting for some sort of reaction. Would she know? Would she suspect? And worst of all, would she mock him, just like the dolls in Yui’s Palace did?

But no, she doesn’t even blink. In fact, she looks half-awake as she tells him his total, which he hastily pays and makes his way out.

It feels like the pacifier is burning a hole through the plastic bag, like everyone who sees it will instinctively know that it’s not for a baby, but for him. He hates how close he feels to Yui in this moment, to know the feel of eyes on his back, the feeling of the only safe place being his home, his metaphorical bunker, but at the same time, it’s kind of a thrill.

It’s like the Phantom Thieves secret, but bigger, since this is one no one can know at all. Which is good because the fewer people know, the less chance he has of being found out. He’ll just have to be careful around Morgana.

It’s only after he gets back to his room that the plastic bag in his hand turns to lead, and the weight of what he did finally sinks in.

Why did he do that?

He retrieves the pills, shoving the rest of the bag into the bottom of his old suitcase. If he never has to look at that again, it’ll be too soon.

That’s just what he needed—physical evidence proving the very thing he’s trying to hide. All he can do is pray no one’s going to pick through his suitcase, because he doesn’t have the heart to throw either item away.

Not that he _wants_ them. It was impulse that had forced his hand, not any sort of subconscious want. All the imagery in Yui’s Palace—the lonely dollies, the broken pacis—has gotten to his head, so he’s not thinking straight.

It was a moment of weakness.

Nothing more.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for spamming y'all with chapters, but we're in the endgame at this point! Most of the future chapters I have some or most of already written, so they're really easy to finish and post when I have your kind comments motivating me!

One more day in the Metaverse.

One more room, one more nightmare monster trying to kill them. They’re in the home stretch. Or at least Akira prays they are.

From what Akira could get from Sojiro, which wasn’t much, he and Futaba had watched a couple movies to help distract her until she eventually fell asleep. She’s been resting ever since.

It’s… off without Futaba. Not wrong, necessarily, but it feels like everything is just slightly out of place. The map serves them just fine, and the group is able to keep a sharp eye out for Shadows, but it’s the piece of their group that’s missing that cuts deepest.

The final room is nestled in the far corner of the map. It’s bigger than the previous rooms, but Akira isn’t sure if that’s a relief or a cause for more anxiety. Lord knows he doesn’t need more concentrated nightmare fuel.

But his group is depending on him. Because Futaba is gone, he has to be a little stronger to make up for it.

“Everyone ready?” Without waiting for an answer, Akira pushes open the door.

It’s not drowned in light, nor is it pitch black. Instead, it’s somewhere in the middle, dimly lit but navigable.

A bar stretches down the length of one wall, the shelves behind it stacked with more brands of whiskey and gin than Akira could count. A pool table fills the opposite space, and a few tables and chairs dot the remaining area.

“It’s a… bar?” Makoto says.

“Why does everything look so sticky?” Ann asks, her lip curled in disgust.

“This ain’t good.” Ryuji mutters.

“What is it?” Makoto takes an instinctive step back. Looks like she hasn’t ruled out the idea of the floor opening up on them again.

Ryuji rubs at the back of his neck, not making eye contact. His body language shows how hard he’s trying to play it casual when so many people here know his history. “Nothing good ever comes from childhood memories and bars. Believe me.”

Not to mention the letter Akira has. The pieces start to fall together. An alcoholic father on its own must’ve been so hard to deal with, but there has to be more to it. Something that made Yui go no-contact. Something big enough to split up a family.

Something pounds on the door, causing both Ryuji and Yusuke to flinch. Ryuji covertly glances around, making sure no one had noticed that, but everyone’s attention had been focused on the source of the noise. After a moment, Yusuke does the same.

Akira won’t say anything, but he’s not going to ignore it either. Ryuji and Yusuke have been handling the Palace well so far, but he wants to prevent a breakdown like Futaba’s at all costs. He’ll have to keep an eye on the both of them, maybe single them out and check in on them when they’re alone.

From what little Yusuke has told him, Madarame was never physically abusive, but he did struggle with containing his temper behind closed doors. Hitting a wall or door to signal his frustrations was never commonplace, but it was expected if Yusuke really disappointed him.

Whatever’s on the other side pounds the door again, and this time, Akira realizes it’s not just a trick of the Palace. Something is trying to get inside, and who knows what will happen if it finds them.

“Get down!” Akira grabs Ryuji by the shoulder, tugging him behind the bar, and the others quickly follow suit.

Not a second too soon, because the bunker door creaks open, and the silent stillness is punctuated with heavy footsteps.

The hairs on the back of Akira’s neck stand on end. He can feel the Shadow hanging right overhead. Does it know they’re there? Is it sitting there, teeth bared, ready to pounce the second Akira looks up?

But no, the Shadow moves slowly, almost lumbering. From the knocks and bangs against the table, it’s more disoriented than malicious.

Is it drunk? The thought of a drunk teddy bear makes him want to laugh, but something tells him this isn’t like the Shadows they’ve been facing.

There’s a bang right overhead, like someone is slamming the side of their fist against the bar, and Ryuji jolts. Akira keeps the hand on his shoulder steady, anchoring them both. If Yusuke were closer, Akira would be offering the same comfort to him, but for now, Akira can only hope he’s okay.

The Shadow looming over them shuffles around a bit before settling.

A new Shadow type is expected, especially the further they get into the Palace. But maybe this one in particular has something to do with the siren? He’s been wondering about the siren for a while. It hasn’t gone off since their first day here, and even then they didn’t get a chance to see what had triggered it. The more time he spends here, the more he thinks whatever causes the siren to go off must be closely linked to the Treasure, but it couldn’t just be one Shadow, right?

Ryuji has gone stock still beside him. In the side glances Akira has managed without looking too overly concerned, it looks like Ryuji’s barely breathing. They need to act soon, or at the very least, get Ryuji and Yusuke out of this situation.

Haru gently touches his shoulder and points up, her gaze questioning.

Akira holds up his hand, asking her to wait. An ambush would give them an advantage, but he’d like to at least know what they’re up against.

He’s waiting for the sound of another Shadow, maybe another set of feet, when something in front of him catches his eye.

In front of him is a vent—small but big enough for someone to slink into if they really wanted to. And if he’s not mistaken, he’s pretty sure he sees something moving around inside.

So this is where Yui’s been hiding.

It does look rather safe in there. He wouldn’t be against climbing in there himself if no one saw him. But being connected right to the bar, where she can hear Shadows drifting in and out? That has to be hard on her.

Akira bites the inside of his mouth, forcing himself to focus. They can worry about Yui and her hiding place later. For now, they have an ambush to pull off. Especially when it sounds like no one else is coming.

He holds up three fingers, waiting until he has everyone’s attention before giving the countdown.

_Three… two… one…_

The Phantom Thieves move as a unit, flanking the offending Shadow on all sides, guns aimed right at its head. They’re expecting an ambush in response to their ambush, but they end up facing down one of the most pathetic-looking Shadows Akira has ever seen.

The Shadow is thin and frail, the lines of age clearly marked across his face. He has a glass in his hand, nearly overflowing with whiskey. His nose and eyes are equally red, indicating that this is far from his first drink.

The Shadow’s eyes slide to Akira, and while he looks tired, he doesn’t say anything. Instead he regards Akira with calm indifference, like he’s already accepted what’s coming to him.

Akira knows him. He’s different from the clean-shaven, smiling image in his photo, but the features are unmistakable. “Mr. Takeda?”

Yui’s father blinks, his eyes growing more unfocused the more he tries to pay attention. “I didn’t mean to,” he says. “It just happens sometimes.”

Akira steps forward, pressing the gun directly to Mr. Takeda’s temple. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Haru and Yusuke jolt in surprise. He can’t blame them. Usually they wait until the Shadows have turned into their monster forms to get aggressive. It’s easier to stop thinking they’re people that way. “Sure.”

“Go ahead, it’s not like it matters.” Mr. Takeda sighs, taking a long drink. The whiskey sloshes over his fingers and drips down his sleeve, but he doesn’t react to the mess. “It’s the other guy you need to watch out for.”

Akira feels eyes graze over his back, confirming something is still watching them. That’s right, he didn’t check the perimeter this time. Stupid. “And who’s that?”

“You’ve heard the siren go off, yeah?” Mr. Takeda glances back at Akira, waiting for a spark of confirmation before continuing. “Then you already know who I’m talking about.”

Ryuji narrows his eyes and takes a step forward. “Pretend like we don’t.”

Mr. Takeda sighs again. “I’m only one part of a single man. Memories are complicated, you know?”

“So there are two versions of Mr. Takeda running around this Palace?” Makoto asks. “Mona, have you seen anything like this before?”

Morgana frowns, like he’s trying to put together a puzzle he doesn’t have all the pieces to. “Two Shadows for the same person is rare, but it’s not unheard of. It usually means a split cognition, like the Palace owner sees the person as two completely different people.”

“I didn’t mean to.” Mr. Takeda says again. He sounds more and more like he’s trying to convince himself instead of the Phantom Thieves. “I really didn’t.”

“So we’ve heard.” Haru replies. The lines on her face have hardened, but she’s not outright glowering like Ryuji is.

They must be coming to the same conclusion Akira is coming to. The alcohol abuse, the letter, the excuses… they don’t paint a positive image of Mr. Takeda, but they do offer a clearer explanation of why Yui prefers to hide when she feels threatened.

“You’ve got until the count of three to tell us something useful.” Akira says, stepping closer so he’s looming over the man. “Or else I shoot.”

Ann’s eyes widen, and the grip on her gun falters. “Are we really doing this?” she asks. “I mean, he’s just a sad old man.”

Akira isn’t budging, and thankfully, neither is Ryuji. “Why don’tcha say it out loud?” Ryuji prods Mr. Takeda with the muzzle of his gun. “You hit her, didn’t ya?”

Mr. Takeda closes his eyes, looking so tired he might collapse on the spot. “I didn’t mean to. I just can’t control my temper sometimes.”

Ryuji’s face twists in disgust. “Bastard. I’ve heard that excuse before.”

“Just take the shot, already. It’s what you want to do, isn’t it?” Mr. Takeda takes another drink. More whiskey gets on his shirt than in his mouth.

Makoto narrows her eyes. “Don’t think you can get us to feel sorry for you.” She lowers her gun, but she doesn’t need it to project menace as she leans over him. “Now, tell us where the Treasure is.”

Mr. Takeda shakes his head. “You’re asking the wrong guy. If I knew, I’d give it back to her.”

“How terribly convenient, then, that you don’t.” Yusuke says, but what stands out to Akira is the confirmation that Yui doesn’t have her own Treasure.

“Does the… other you have it?” Makoto presses. “There’s just the one, right?”

“Probably.” Mr. Takeda shrugs. Akira gets the feeling this Shadow doesn’t leave this room often. In Yui’s mind, this sad, subdued version of her father doesn’t exist outside of the bar. “I didn’t mean to. You believe me, right?”

“You and I both know that doesn’t matter.” Akira says.

If the answer surprises him, Mr. Takeda doesn’t show it. It’s more like he knew that all along, and he’s just been desperately searching for someone to reassure him. He turns back to his glass of whiskey, barely acknowledging either gun pressed to his temple.

“This is pointless.” Ryuji growls, finally lowering his gun. His body is still poised like a tightly wound spring, ready to leap into action if the man before them was simply playing pathetic to lower their guard. “He ain’t gonna talk.”

“Let’s just leave him.” Ann says. “It’s not worth it.”

One by one, the Phantom Thieves lower their guns, but Mr. Takeda shows no signs of reacting. If anything, he only looks more downtrodden as he tops off his glass of whiskey and heads over to the dartboard in the corner. A trail of spilled whiskey marks his path.

Makoto doesn’t take her eyes off of Mr. Takeda, even as he busies himself with the world’s saddest game of darts. “Another dead-end room.”

“The _last_ dead-end room.” Morgana says. “Nowhere else to go after here.”

“And now we know that a Shadow _does_ have Yui’s Treasure.” With a sigh, Makoto leans against the bar. Her body is still turned in Mr. Takeda’s direction, her eyes sharp. “I just wish that gave us any answers.”

“If I could give my theory?” Haru asks.

Contrary to Makoto, she can’t even look at the man across the room. Maybe she’s opening herself up to an ambush, but she keeps her back to him. Akira can’t blame her. Like Ryuji, Haru is very familiar the phrase “I didn’t mean it” in lieu of an actual apology.

“I think that our best chance would be to send the calling card to summon Mr. Takeda’s other Shadow.” Haru says. “If he thinks he’s in danger of losing the Treasure, he might react first and come out of hiding.”

“But if we don’t have a clear-cut path…” Makoto says. The slices of panic start popping up in her eyes. No matter how much she’s changed, in some ways, she’s still the same honor student, desperate to have everything perfectly laid out.

“I agree with Haru.” Akira cuts her off before she can say anything more. “There’s not much else we can do in this Palace. At this point, we’re just wasting time.”

“But if the calling card doesn’t work, the Treasure is gone for good.” Morgana reminds them.

“This does seem like a risky maneuver.” Yusuke agrees. “Perhaps there’s another way to lure this particular Shadow out of hiding.”

“Something’s been watching us.” Akira remembers. “Through the dolls. And I think it might just be his other Shadow. He knows where he are. And he’s not coming out unless it’s by force.”

“Or maybe we can lure him out.” Morgana says. There’s a pause, an unspoken thought that they might be able to find his hiding place if they still had their navigator on hand. “But I don’t think the Phantom Thieves would have anything he wants.”

“Hey, remember how those Shadows were trying to take Yui somewhere?” Ann says. “I hate to say it, but maybe we could use her as bait.”

“Like saying that we’ll be giving her the Treasure at the bunker’s opening.” Yusuke adds. “Brilliant.”

“No.” Haru arches her eyebrows, giving a subtle nod to the walls, where little eyes could very well be watching. “We can’t fake this. We’d have to find her.”

“It’s a shame we have no idea where she is.” Akira says. He drifts behind the bar again, so his foot is right in front of the vent.

Ann’s eyes light up with understanding. “Yeah, it really is.”

“Really gonna have our work cut out for tomorrow then, huh?” Ryuji mutters. It’s a fight for Ann not to roll her eyes.

“I don’t like this. I don’t like this at all.” Makoto mutters. She’s clearly talking to herself, but she turns to Akira with the utmost conviction. “But I trust you.”

Akira nods his thanks, trying to look outwardly relieved.

“Tomorrow, we send the calling card.”


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A shorter, sadder chapter so I apologize in advance.

Akira makes his way back to Yongen-Jaya feeling unusually lonely.

The empty seat beside him is more noticeable as he’s riding home from a Palace run, but he can’t let himself dwell on that.

It’ll all be over tomorrow, one way or another. Either their half-baked plan will succeed, or everything will fall apart and they’ll have to tell as much to Nanami.

Akira has to be the one to get Yui out of that vent. The way she’d looked at him on days previous, it had to mean something. She had to know he regressed too, or at the very least, she trusted him more than the others. He hopes that’ll be enough to get through to her, and if not… well, he can’t afford to think about that yet.

This Palace is too dangerous for them to keep returning to. The others may act like they’re fine, but Akira is seeing firsthand how it’s messing with them. First Futaba, and now Ryuji and Yusuke. It’s like one giant trigger for anyone who’s suffered child abuse.

And even if Haru hasn’t outwardly shown any discomfort, he’s sure it’s hard for her as well. After all, she’d been the first to speak up about the dolls. Maybe that was her way of asking for comfort?

Ann and Makoto haven’t said anything either, but Akira is sure the Palace is wearing on them as well. If anything, it’s the emptiness, the lack of anything and anyone else that could affect them. He knows especially how much those two dislike the feeling of loneliness.

If he were being completely honest with himself, the Palace is wearing on him worst of all. The way everything seems to _know_ makes him feel like he’s on pins and needles every waking second, and the way Yui’s memories and experiences all point to regressing being _bad_ paint a grim picture for when his friends find out. The tiny, selfish, insecure part of him worries that they’ll reject him just like Yui’s friends rejected her.

Akira shakes his head, no longer able to push away the unpleasant ache pulsing behind his forehead. His head feels fuzzy, which he now knows means he’s regressing.

New knowledge he has to carry around. New pitfalls to avoid at every turn. It’s exhausting just to think about.

Sojiro greets him, as usual, but Akira can’t muster a response. He doesn’t even nod, which in retrospect, might have set off some alarm bells, but his head is swimming too much for him to take much notice.

Exhausted as he is, he needs to make this evening a productive one. There’s no telling what they’ll be up against tomorrow, and it’s up to him to make the whole thing run as smoothly as possible.

Akira hesitates at the top of the stairs, holding his phone in his hands, staring right at Kawakami’s contact but completely unable to hit the call button. Watching his thumbs, he realizes his hands are trembling, because his body is too numb to tell him as much.

Fuzzy days are usually a prolonged series of small failures, an offness that can only be treated by going to bed. But every so often, a fuzzy day will come to a head.

It’s stupid to push himself on a fuzzy day. No matter what he does, the result is always the same. But still, he makes the same mistake over and over. Really, it can’t be helped when he’s the leader, when so many people are depending on him.

But there’s always a point where he finds himself paralyzed, where the rest of the world feels too insurmountably large to take on by himself.

And here it is.

“Akira?” Morgana asks, but he’s too far away to answer. Everything sounds too distant, like he’s trapped underwater and only hearing muffled sounds from the surface.

It strikes him all at once that he _can’t do this anymore_. When was the last time he spent a quiet evening in his room, or even just _relaxed?_ He’d love to do that right now, but no, he has three jobs he could be at. And if not that, helping Iwai so his teammates can have better weapons in the Metaverse. And if not that, he could be talking to Ohya and making sure the Phantom Thieves got better coverage. And if not that, playing shogi with Hifumi and making sure the Phantom Thieves had the best strategy possible. And if not that and if not that _and if not that and if not that and if not that and if not that and if not that and if not that—_

Akira isn’t even aware he’s hyperventilating until his vision swims and he buckles over his knees.

He tries to breathe, but all he ends up doing is clawing desperately for air that won’t come. It’s like he’s stranded in space without a helmet, adrift and helpless, to the point where the only thing he can do is let himself suffocate.

He threads his fingers through his hair and twists, hoping the pain will give him some sort of clarity, but it’s no use. They’ve moved past the point where pain could ground him, so instead it only serves to make him more frustrated.

Morgana is pawing at him, trying to get his attention, but Morgana’s presence only makes the tightness in his chest worse.

After all, it’s an audience to his mental breakdown. Worse than that, it’s someone who could walk up to the rest of the Phantom Thieves tomorrow and say “Hey, guys! Guess what I saw that makes this guy totally unfit to be our leader?”

Because he wasn’t fit for it. Especially if he couldn’t put together the energy in a near life or death situation. Why was it now he decided to crack when he’s been able to hide it for months? What about Yui’s Palace suddenly had every bad thought and memory crawling to the surface?

He hears a pounding in the distance, and his body can only react like he’s back in Yui’s Palace. Right now, when he’s vulnerable and scared and needs someone to project on to, he knows he could only react to Mr. Takeda’s Shadow with fear. There’s no anger or bravado left in him, and all he wants is to hide.

A voice accompanies the noise, too muffled to hear, and Akira hides his head in his arms. If Yui gets hit, it only stands to reason that he’d get hit too.

“Kid?” Suddenly the voice is right in front of him, close enough to recognize. Sojiro. And pretty panicked, from the sounds of it. “We could hear you from downstairs.”

Shit, there are people that need him to get his act together now. He can’t put this all on Sojiro either. Akira straightens up and tries to get a hold of himself, tries to pull in a deep breath that will snap everything back into focus, but the most he can manage is a series of shallow gasps as the room gets blurrier.

“Hey, hey, look at me.” Something grabs his face, and he freezes. Well, as much as he can freeze when his body is shaking with the force of three day’s worth of anxiety finally boiling over.

God, poor Sojiro looks terrified.

It’s a long, painful moment of silence, wherein Akira realizes his face is wet. When had he started crying?

“Can you tell me where you are?” Sojiro asks.

“L-Leblanc.” Akira answers. It’s a fight to get his voice to work, but it’s better to focus on that than everything going on in his brain.

“Good, good. And what day is it?”

“Its…” Akira trails off, trying to remember what day it is, which day was blocked off on his calendar this morning. The day has been so _long._ It’s hard to keep track. “Thursday. It’s Thursday.”

“Exactly.” Sojiro then pulls him into a hug. He smells like coffee and cigarettes, a combination Akira had never found comforting until this exact moment. “There we go. The worst is over. Take your time.” He’s calm, speaking from practice. Has he had to comfort Futaba in similar ways before?

“I…” Akira trails off, not sure what he was even trying to say. That he’s fine? That he doesn’t need comfort? Because neither of those are true.

“Shh…” Sojiro soothes. “It’s alright. You don’t have to be okay right away.”

The fuzzy part of his brain—the _regressed_ side—wants to cling tight and never let go, but the functioning half of his brain won’t let that happen.

Akira gives himself one minute, then two, and it probably would’ve rolled over into five minutes because he does _not_ feel big enough at the moment. But nonetheless, he pulls away.

Nausea rolls over him in rough, unpleasant waves. He thinks he might be sick.

Sojiro lingers, his face still painted with concern. “How are you feeling?” His voice is softer than Akira has ever heard it, and it makes him melt. He hadn’t realized how much he saw Sojiro as a father figure until this moment, where he’d do anything to be held again and told that everything would be fine.

But his wants don’t matter. He has to look tough. “Fine.” Akira clambers to his feet, ignoring how his legs feel like jelly underneath him.

Sojiro gets up from the floor as well. Poor guy, that must’ve been hard on his back. “You sure about that?” His tone is almost playful. Akira must look a mess, if Sojiro’s faith in him is that miniscule.

“I’m fine. I just need to go for a walk. Clear my head.” And maybe not come back until well after Sojiro has closed up for the evening.

Sojiro straightens up, a glint of determination in his eyes. He puts out an arm, stopping Akira before he can breeze past and make a clumsy escape. Despite not looking anything alike, he and Futaba appear near identical when putting their foot down. “No, you’re not. I’m calling your teacher in the morning to let her know you’re not feeling well, and you’re staying home and resting. And that’s an order.”

Akira blinks, trying to process the information. Not only because someone told him to rest, but because someone had told him what to do, period. It makes him feel…safe? Cared for? “O-okay.”

Sojiro starts. He was obviously expecting more of a battle. “Good. Do you, uh… wanna talk about it?”

Did he? Of course he did. But how could he admit he was incapable? “No thank you.” He lowers his head, knocking his heels together. “Just wanna sleep.”

Sojiro’s expression softens. “Alright then.” After a moment of clear hesitation, he tousles Akira’s hair. “Try to get some sleep, alright?

“I will.” He stamps down the need to grab the back of Sojiro’s apron and beg to not be left alone again.

“Good.” Frankly, Sojiro looks rather stunned that Akira is actually listening to him, even as he shoos Akira in the direction of his bed. Maybe it’s Akira’s imagination, but he almost looks like he wants to say more, _do_ more. “I’ll bring your breakfast up in the morning, okay?”

“Yeah.” Akira deliberately turns his back on Sojiro, knowing good and well he’ll break down again if they continue this awkward staring contest.

“Right. Try to get some sleep.” Sojiro says again, just to fill the air. The steps creak as he goes, and the hushed voices of customers indicate they very much heard him. He can only imagine the stares he’ll get from now on. The whispers too. Not that he isn’t already used to that kind of treatment.

“Akira, what just happened?” Morgana asks.

“It’s nothing.” Akira answers with a shake of his head. He peels off his uniform jacket, but that’s all he can manage.

The panic attack on top of a Palace trek has sapped any energy he might have had left, leaving him sore, sad, and as much as he hates to admit it, regressed.

“Nothing? You just had a panic attack!” He’s trying to sound angry, but Morgana can’t train the edge of worry out of his voice. “Now, come on, you’ve been acting strangely ever since we started this Palace!” If he didn’t know better, Akira would say Morgana was almost pleading with him.

“Like I said. Nothing.” He lies down with his back to Morgana and shuts his eyes, ignoring Morgana’s fervent meowing for his attention.

By the time he falls asleep, Morgana has long since given up and gone, leaving Akira completely alone in his misery.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had most of this written already because, as mean as it sounds, Akira's breakdown moment is maybe one of my favorites in the fic and was one of my starting points when drafting
> 
> On the bright side, we have maybe 4 chapters left until cuddles?


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not a huge fan of this chapter, but it's necessary so I couldn't cut it. As usual, thanks to everyone who's been commenting and showing support! You've really helped keep this story moving and I appreciate all of you <3

Akira doesn’t feel any better come morning.

As promised, Sojiro brings up his breakfast on a tray, and as much as he tried to protest, Sojiro just shushes him and tells him to rest up.

Morgana is still nowhere to be found. He must have left in the middle of the night.

Akira sighs. He can’t blame Morgana for not wanting to hang around that. After all, no one likes a brat.

He eats although he’s not hungry, but mostly spends the day in bed, dozing on and off.

His head doesn’t feel as fuzzy as it did last night, but the smallness is still there in the back of his mind. If he hadn’t had that panic attack—or maybe just had it a little quieter—he could be at school right now, getting this entire Palace over with. But based on Sojiro’s continued fussing, he’s not going anywhere for a good while.

He wants to be annoyed by it, but he can’t find Sojiro worrying over him as anything other than deeply comforting. It’s different, a good different, to have someone that concerned of his comings and goings.

Voices trickle in from the café below, rousing Akira from his half-sleep.

“Thanks for coming, you two. Go easy on him, okay? He’s had a rough night.” Sojiro is saying.

A chorus of “yes, Boss” answers him. Akira can just pick out the voices. Ryuji and Ann, but it doesn’t sound like anyone else. Are they the only ones that came? He’s not sure if that’s a relief or not.

“Hey, dude.” Ryuji calls. “Comin’ up.”

Akira half-sits up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. He doesn’t know where his glasses are. Even though he fell asleep wearing them, he’d woken up with them gone.

Ryuji and Ann’s heads poke up above the banister a few seconds later. Akira knows he must look a mess, just by the way Ann’s face fills with sympathy. “Hey,” she manages.

“Hey.” Akira replies. He belatedly realizes he’s still wearing his school uniform. He hasn’t had the will to get out of bed, let alone change his clothes. “What are you guys doing here?”

“We just wanted to check on you, dude.” Ryuji says. “Kawakami said you were out sick.” His voice is half-questioning as he says it.

And here is where Akira reaches his crossroads. He has to be honest with them, at least to some degree. Even if he doesn’t want to bother them, even if his emotional state shouldn’t be their concern, they have to know a piece of what’s up.

“Yeah, I, uh, had a panic attack last night. I’ve just been a little out of it.” That shouldn’t be too much, right? It’s not like they’ll put together he regresses just from that. He’s read those two articles Makoto gave them backwards and forwards a dozen times over, just so he knew what he had to hide.

Ann’s eyes go wide. “Oh my God, what happened? Are you okay?”

Maybe that was too much. He should’ve known with Ann especially that even a little would be enough to concern her. Or maybe his own personal scale for breakdown was just severely out of whack.

“I’m fine now,” he promised. “Just… tired.”

Next thing he knows Ann is sitting beside him, gently lifting his head into her lap. “Poor baby. No wonder you look so exhausted.”

He isn’t sure why, but those words make him melt.

“You need us to push back the Palace stuff?” Ryuji asks, sitting on the other end of Akira’s bed. “I don’t think the others would mind if we needed to take a break.”

“No, I’m fine.” Akira insists. “It was a one-time thing.”

Ryuji gives him that look, that one that sees right through him each and every time. “Are you sure about that? You’ve been actin’ a little tired lately.”

It’s because he’s shown vulnerability. Snuggled up on Ann’s lap like this, he knows he must look pathetic. Weak. Unreliable. Definitely not leader material.

He pulls back from the touch, ignoring the way his stomach plummets once his sole source of comfort is out of reach, but it’s all he can do to save face.

“How’s the calling card coming along?” Akira asks, sitting up all the way. Ryuji shuffles in closer on his other side.

“Dude, the calling card can wait.” Ryuji says. “Besides, you need to rest.”

“It was a fluke.” Akira insists, but it’s too late. Their opinion of him has shifted. He’s no longer the dependable leader they used to see him as. No doubt his usefulness is being called into question as well. How long until they see him as not being worth the trouble?

There’s a beat. Ryuji and Ann exchange a brief glance, communicating so much in that little look. “Well, Makoto, Haru, and Yusuke put it together last night.” Ann says. Her voice is clipped, careful. She’s already decided he isn’t trustworthy with heavy information. “We held off when we heard you called in sick, though.”

Akira nods. “How’s Futaba?”

“Better.” Ann tells him. Her hands shift awkwardly in her lap. “She texted the group chat earlier saying she wants to go into the Palace with us.”

That’s right, he hasn’t touched his phone all day. His eyes flit to his school bag. Is that the place where he last had it? No wonder they’re worried, if they weren’t able to contact him.

“Yeah, we thought you might have your phone turned off.” Ryuji says. “No worries.”

“We just wanted to make sure you were okay with that, though.” Ann says haltingly.

Akira can hear the hesitation in her voice, like she isn’t sure if he should be the ones calling the shots anymore. “Fine by me,” he replies.

Honestly, he has no doubt that Futaba will be able to handle whatever the Palace throws at them tomorrow. She’s surprisingly adaptable, and anything that gets the better of her once can never do so a second time. More importantly, she knows her limits. So if she says she wants to try again, Akira trusts her.

Ann’s looking at him strangely. Was his reply too gruff? Too short? Because the scrutiny he’s under is setting off all sorts of alarm bells.

“You know you can be honest with us, right?” Ann asks. Even though he pulled away, she still rubs a hand up and down his arm. “Because if something in the Palace is messing with you, we’re here to listen.”

“If we’re being honest here, I actually had a nightmare last night. About… you know.” Ryuji shifts uncomfortably. “The bar and shit was just… a lot.”

“Hey…” Ann rubs his shoulder too, a comfort that Akira replicates.

“I’ve just been thinking a lot about Yui.” Akira admits. It’s a delicate balance he has to strike. To say too much would tip them off to him regressing, and to say too little would lead them to fill in the blanks themselves.

Ann nods in understanding. “She’s been through a lot.”

“I’ve been thinking about what I should say,” Akira continues, “trying to put myself in her shoes.” It’s a given that he’d be the one to try and talk to her. He’s the leader after all, and it’s the least he can do. He can only hope that them both being regressors will give him an advantage. “It’s been a lot.”

“God, I bet.” Ryuji’s answer is vague. Akira hasn’t told any of them about his home life, so Ann and Ryuji can only guess as to what parts of Yui’s life have struck a chord with him. That’s for the best, considering what the truth of the matter is.

“I still don’t understand completely, but I think I can at least get through to her.” A half-truth. A truth by omission. He didn’t fully know about her trauma, but her regression he got one hundred percent.

“Sounds good to me. Just don’t push yourself too hard.” Ryuji folds his arms behind his head and leans back. “Hey, you feel up to having us around? I don’t really feel like headin’ back home yet.”

“Sure.” Being around people sounds nice. Really nice, actually. Much better than staying in bed for the rest of the evening and worrying about all the things he could be doing.

Ann’s eyes light up. “Ooh! Think we could watch a movie?”

Ryuji grins at the prospect. “Yeah, whatcha got, dude?”

“I think I still have a couple rentals by the TV.”

Ann pops up from the bed before Ryuji can get a chance. “I call dibs on picking!”

Akira grins despite himself. His head still feels fuzzy, but it’s more of a sad fuzzy than a tired fuzzy. It’s manageable.

Especially when he has his friends beside him.

* * *

“Yui?”

There’s a knock at her door. Once. Twice. Soft and brief.

“Can I come in?”

Yui rises from the spot on her bed, ducking deeper into the folds of her hoodie as she tiptoes over to her bedroom door and pushes the deadbolt back.

Nanami waits a few moments, giving Yui the chance to curl back up in her blankets before coming in.

Nanami enters, trying and failing to keep the grimace off of her face. Yui knows how it must feel, to come in here and be unaccustomed to the dark, the smell. It’s unlivable for anyone who wasn’t submerged in the squalor through each and every stage of its development.

“There was mail for you this morning.” Nanami continues, holding out a red postcard.

When Yui doesn’t take it, she smiles sadly. Yui wishes she could act like Nanami wants her to, but it’s for the best. If she were to take it right from Nanami’s hands, she’d flinch, and then they’d both feel worse.

“I’ll just leave it here.” Nanami sets it on the edge of her bed. “Breakfast will be ready in a bit, okay? If you aren’t out in an hour, I’ll bring your food in here.”

Yui keeps her eyes downcast as she nods, but it’s something. A nod is more than nothing at all, and Nanami deserves more than what Yui’s been giving her. And if she’s being honest, the mystery mail has left her insatiably curious. The last time she’d gotten mail… well, that was what made sure she never left the house anymore.

“Okay.” Nanami leaves without another word, closing the door behind her with a gentle click. Yui makes sure to readjust the deadbolt before going for the postcard.

It’s too dark to read, so Yui scrambles for a light source. She can’t bear to have the overhead lights on anymore, so she needs an alternative. Her go-to is a miniature flashlight that she keeps under her mattress. It takes a little maneuvering to pull out, but a couple shakes and it’s always good to go.

As she flicks on the flashlight, her stomach plummets to the floor. The red logo staring her down is unmistakable.

Yui clutches the note tight in her hands, her breath coming out shaky.

“The Phantom Thieves,” she whispers. She’d seen Nanami writing the letter, and she remembers those strange girls that came by a few days ago, but she never thought the actual _Phantom Thieves_ of all people would be interested in helping her.

The back of the card reads:

_Yui Takeda,_

_We would like to offer our sincerest apologies for everything you’ve gone through. Your situation hasn’t been fair, but today, we hope to change things for you for the better. You are a victim of your own warped cognition, and today we will set you free. We will take your distorted desires without fail, and thus set you free from the prison you’ve created for yourself._

_-The Phantom Thieves of Hearts_

They really want to help her.

Something shifts, and Yui gasps at the sudden pang in her chest. She drops the note, letting it flutter to her feet where it lies among every other discarded paper she hasn’t had the will to throw away.

It’s like her father is hanging over her, begging her not to let him go. After all, they’re family, aren’t they?

What are they, if not family?


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't intend to update 2 days in a row but you guys are so sweet with your comments and it energizes me so much! <3

There’s always a certain energy in Palaces after a calling card has been sent.

Maybe it’s the feeling of the light at the end of the tunnel, like their hard work is almost over and finally about to pay off, but Akira feels it stronger than ever as the Phantom Thieves enter Yui’s Palace. 

The entrance to the bunker looks the same, save for a single doll hanging from the rafters, watching intently. He pretends not to notice, knowing it might be instrumental in luring out the Palace ruler.

“Enemy readings are off the charts.” Futaba informs them.

“What’s the plan?” Makoto asks.

“Dead sprint for the bar.” Akira says. “Split off in pairs to take down any Shadows that try to stop us. And when we get there, guard the exit and hang back. I’ll talk to Yui.”

Makoto nods. “Understood.”

He turns to the others. “Everyone ready?”

“Ready!”

The path from the entrance to the bar isn’t an easy one. The walls strain, like they want to be changing paths, but the only thing stopping them is Yui’s cognition. A Shadow bursts forth from thin air, making a beeline for the Phantom Thieves.

Joker ducks, barely managing to slide under the rogue swipe of a demented teddy bear, but easily regains his balance and presses forward. The Shadow is defeated in two strikes, and Ann and Yusuke are back in the group in no time.

“Enemy readings are staying strong!” Futaba warns, just as another Shadow appears.

Ryuji takes it out in one hit, but almost immediately, another appears to take its place. “They just keep comin’!” he yells.

“Just keep moving!” Akira responds, dodging another blow with ease. The gap between him and his teammates is steadily increasing the more Shadows that appear. No one has a single scratch on them so far, but Akira doesn’t want to take any more of a risk than they have to.

Eventually, they find their rhythm. The people in front take out the Shadows as fast as they can, allowing the people behind them to progress forward and take out the nearest Shadow, all the while with Akira making his way to the bar.

It’s no surprise he gets there first.

Mr. Takeda’s Shadow—or at least the half they’ve met—is nowhere to be found. Akira tries to convince himself that’s a good thing and not at all foreboding. He doesn’t want to think how Mr. Takeda’s Shadow would react if Yui were to come out of her hiding place.

The door bursts open, and Futaba and Yusuke arrive, shortly followed by the others.

“Hallways are clear for now.” Futaba reports. “With any luck they’ll stay that way.”

“Good.” It’ll be harder moving with Yui by his side, but he has faith in his teammates to keep him covered. The only doubt he has is his mind is if Yui will agree to their plan.

“Alright.” Ryuji leans against the door. “Do your thing, dude.”

Akira nods, approaching the vent behind the bar like it’s a wounded animal. After all, who’s to say that it’s just Yui in there? What if this is another secret room, and he’s doomed his friends by having them send the calling card too early?

No, he can’t think about that now. He gets down on his knees, unsurprised to find the grate pops off with little more than a tug. That’s not much space to move around in, though. Tentatively, he stretches his arms out first, so he can pull himself forward if need be and slips inside.

The vents are much longer on the inside. While it’s a straight shot to her hiding place, there’s actually quite a bit of space between her and the bar. No wonder she chose this place. Even if one of the Shadows found her, they wouldn’t be able to follow her in here.

Yui is curled up in a mass of blankets, huddled with her head in her knees. As Akira gets closer, he can see a network of vents, leading out in all directions. That explains how she was able to disappear before.

Yui doesn’t notice him, at least not right away, but when she does, he can feel the change in their surroundings. Yui might not have much control in the rest of her Palace, but in this little space she’s carved out for herself, she couldn’t be more powerful.

She gasps as Akira crawls out of the vent and into her inner sanctum. Something behind him reverberates with a metallic slamming. He touches a hand to the vent space behind him to find the exit nonexistent.

“Hi there.” Akira stays crouched, trying to look as nonthreatening as possible. “Remember us? We’re here to help.”

“No. No, no, no.” Yui scrambles backwards, but as she does so, the room they’re in only gets smaller. “Get away from me!”

Akira lurches forward as the wall slams into his back.

“Joker!” Futaba cries, her voice coming in just a little distorted. Yui must be affecting their signal as well. “Can you hear me? Your exit route just closed up, but stay calm!”

“Yui.” It’s a fight to keep his voice calm, when every nerve ending is screaming that he needs to escape. He likes being closed in and safe, but this is the opposite of safe. “We aren’t here to hurt you. You saw the calling card.”

“I don’t believe that.” Yui says. “You’re just like everyone else!”

“No, we’re not. We’ve seen everything you’ve gone through, and we’re here to tell you that it’s okay. It’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

Yui’s eyes go wide, filled with a blind panic once she realizes what he’s implying. Not only that they know about the abuse, but about her regression as well. “No. No, it’s not. You need to leave!”

The walls push harder against his back, so he’s forced into a deeper crouch. They won’t last much longer like this.

Akira is barely able to restrain his panic as his feet start scraping against the floor. “Yui, please, you’ll crush us both!”

“Maybe that’s what I want! It’ll tell your friends to leave! I know all about your plan to use me as bait!”

“That was—bad wording on our part.” Akira cringes as his neck is forced down at an angle. “I just came to ask for your help. If you don’t wanna do it, that’s fine. We’ll find another way. But we aren’t leaving until we save you.”

Yui wraps the blanket tighter across her chest. The shrinking space is forcing her into an uncomfortable position as well, but she doesn’t seem to care. “Why don’t I believe you, then?”

“Because it’s hard to trust after going through what you’ve gone through?” The words come out more like a question, but it’s hard not to sound desperate when he and Yui are directly in front of each other, with the walls closing in on their sides.

“Give me one reason to trust you.” Yui growls. She’d sound venomous, if it weren’t for the walls squeezing the breath out of her. But considering her confidence, this must be the only way she can feel in control, even if she does hurt herself in the process.

_Because I regress just like you._ The answer is right there, in big, bold, highlighted letters, but Akira stalls with saying it. Knowing it is one thing, thinking it is one thing, but saying it out loud, in front of his teammates no less, is something he doesn’t think he can handle.

Futaba’s voice cuts in again. “Joker! Hang tight, we’re trying to get inside right now!”

“Answer me!”

The blankets are pressing up against his knees, providing some relief on his joints. He and Yui are face to face now, and he can see every bit of fear and desperation in her eyes. If anything, she needs the reassurance as much as he does. She needs to know she’s not alone.

“It’s okay.” Akira swallows hard, knowing full well his teammates can hear every word. It’s the sacrifice he needs to make. For the mission. For his life. “Me too.”

The walls stop moving thankfully. The ceiling creates a heavy, unwelcome weight against his shoulders. Yui blinks at him. “What?”

“I regress too,” he says. The words are hard to form, even harder to say out loud, but they’re true. “There’s a word for it. You’re not sick. Or weird. Or a burden. You’re just…trying to cope.”

Yui stares at him, wide-eyed. The trembling in her shoulders has stopped, but it does nothing to make her look any less frail. “But I thought…”

“We just wanna help. You’re not alone.”

Yui raises her chin, looking at him in a way that makes his mask feel useless. He supposes that’s just what it feels like to make yourself vulnerable. The walls and ceiling pull back a fraction, providing some much-needed relief. “You’re like me.”

He swallows back the last of his dignity. On the other end, Futaba is dead silent. He doesn’t know if that means the signal has cut out, but a part of his desperately hopes so. “Yeah. I am.”

“Your friends seem nice,” she whispers. “If they’re still friends with you knowing that.”

Akira tries not to think about the reactions he’ll face, now that he’s said that in front of his friends. “Your friends were wrong to say all those things about you. It’s not wrong to ask for help sometimes.”

Yui nods, her eyes welling up. “You should tell them to run.”

“Run?”

But further questions are drowned out by the sound of a siren.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another shorter chapter, but considering its ending, I really didn't want to combine this and the next chapter together


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a chapter I didn't have much written for in advance, but I had a lot more fun than I expected writing it! I knew from the comments that I couldn't leave y'all on a cliffhanger for too long :p

Akira bolts upright and, thankfully, he has enough room to do so without knocking himself unconscious. “What’s going on?”

“He’s coming.” Yui whimpers.

“Who’s coming?” Akira asks, but he receives no answer. “Yui!”

“Shh!” The walls are closing in again, pressing them close together, but this time, it’s not a threat. It’s just to keep the two of them safe. “If we’re quiet, he won’t find us.”

“Your… father?” he guesses.

Yui nods, keeping her eyes downcast. “He’s the real ruler of this Palace.”

Akira sucks in a shallow breath. He could’ve guessed that much, but having it confirmed out loud just makes it real. And now his teammates are facing down the Palace ruler without their leader.

He knows how useless he’s been lately. Realistically speaking, his team wouldn’t be missing much if they had to go into battle without him, but that doesn’t mean he’s going to hunker down and abandon them.

“Let me out, Yui.”

She shakes her head. “You’ll just get hurt.”

“I need to help my friends.”

“But you’re like me!” she insists. She grabs hold of his hands like she never wants to let go. “He’ll hurt you.”

“ _Yui._ ”

He isn’t sure if it’s his tone or her own denial finally cracking, but she goes stock still. “Right. Your friends.” Her fingers loosen around his hands. “They’re nice.”

Akira nods, placing a kind hand on her shoulder. “This will all be over with soon.”

And this time, she looks like she actually believes him. “Okay.”

The wall—the entire _wall_ —opens up, allowing Akira to rise from his crouch and step back into the bar area. The lights have dimmed, the emergency lights glowing a dull red, to accompany the blaring siren.

He rolls his neck, trying to get any residual soreness out before joining his teammates. The wall snaps shut behind him as he steps out.

“Joker!” Futaba rushes over. “You’re okay!”

Haru joins her, but she doesn’t take her eyes off the door. “I’m guessing that siren is…”

“Mr. Takeda’s other Shadow.” Akira confirms. No one’s looking at him with scorn, surprisingly enough. It’s mostly just concern, which is reasonable considering he barely escaped death a moment ago. Maybe the signal did cut out.

“Are you okay?” Ann asks. “We thought we heard…” She gestures vaguely, unable to say the words.

So they did hear it, then. No point in lying about it and saying he didn’t mean it. And if he’s being entirely honest, he’d say he’s tired of having to hide.

“You did. I am.”

“Joker…” Makoto is looking at him with pity—no, sympathy. He has to believe it’s sympathy, that they still care, and he can break apart later.

He holds up a hand to stop her. “We’re not done yet.”

“Right.” Makoto closes her eyes for a moment, shifting gears back to the matter at hand. “So why now?”

“He’s either intended to stop us before we can get back to the entrance.” Futaba answers. “Or we fell right into his trap.”

Akira instinctively looks up, and a single doll grins back. Of course. Takeda was just waiting for them to give him Yui’s location so he could hunt her down himself.

The siren finally fades out, but the lights remain dim. Before Akira even has time to speculate, something pounds against the wall so hard the entire bunker seems to shake.

“ _Yuuuiiiii_ …” a familiar voice drawls. It sounds sharp, distorted. “ _Where are yoooouuuu?_ ”

“Sounds like the latter.” Yusuke says, unsheathing his katana. The other Phantom Thieves unsheathe their weapons in turn.

Something pounds against the door, but before Akira can think it’s a repeat of what they’ve already seen, the door indents under the force and falls crumpled to the ground.

The figure has to duck to get through. If Akira had to guess, he’d say the Shadow in front of them was ten, maybe twelve feet tall, and as he straightens up, the ceiling gets higher to accompany him.

His face is covered in a surgical mask, and he wears a doctor’s coat, but in his hands, he holds a needle and thread. They’re large, even taking his size into account, and power radiates from them. If anything, this man has is the Treasure, it has to be the needle.

Almost immediately, Akira picks up on the overwhelming smell of alcohol, and his worst suspicions come true. This isn’t a product of split cognition, not anymore. The two Shadows of Mr. Takeda no longer exist.

And in their place is the worst aspects of both of them.

When he sets his eyes on the Phantom Thieves, the corners of his eyes crinkle. The look wouldn’t be out of place with a parent meeting their children’s school friends.

“ _And just who are you?_ ”

Ryuji scowls. “We’re the goddamn Phantom Thieves, and we’re here to take back whatever you stole from Yui!”

Shadow Takeda chuckles. “ _Ah, of course. Silly little children playing pretend._ ” His gaze slides to Akira, twinkling with malice. “ _Aren’t you?_ ”

So the Shadows here did know, at least to an extent. Regardless, Akira won’t acknowledge that comment. “Everyone on your guard!” Akira calls. “Try to get that needle away from him!”

The Phantom Thieves break, preparing to attack from all angles.

“Carmen!” Ann summons a flurry of fire, and while it does manage to distract Shadow Takeda for a brief moment, he whirls, knocking back Yusuke and Makoto with force when they try and get too close.

“Milady!” Haru tries the same tactic, but before her attack can even land, she gets hit the blunt end of the needle and hits the floor with a thump.

Even from a distance, Akira could tell Shadow Takeda hadn’t hit her that hard—at least, not hard enough to take down Haru, of all people. Soft as she may look, she takes hits like a champ.

Something is very wrong here.

“Fall back!” Akira orders.

Shadow Takeda screams as Ryuji lands a direct hit to his chest, sending him staggering long enough for everyone to regroup.

“Well, he’s stronger than the other Shadows in this Palace.” Yusuke says, out of breath.

“Something’s wrong here.” Akira says. “He shouldn’t be able to land hits like that and our stamina shouldn’t be depleting that fast.”

“I’m working on buffs as we speak.” Futaba tells them over the intercom. “Until then, focus on defense.”

Akira looks over his teammates. Morgana and Ann are tending to a barely-conscious Haru, and Yusuke and Makoto don’t look any better. At this rate, they may not be able to keep up the fight for much longer.

“ _Are we almost done here, children?_ ” Shadow Takeda readjusts his hold on the needle, holding the thread like it’s the handle of a flail.

“That can’t be good.” Futaba says. “Everyone scatter!”

Akira dives right, but as he does, a white hot pain strikes through his calf, producing a pain so searing that his vision blurs and the floor falls out from under him.

“Joker? Joker!”

“Why isn’t he healing?”

He’s not sure how much time he’s lost, but he couldn’t have been out for too long. Ann and Makoto are hanging over him, both desperately trying to cast a healing spell on his wound. He looks down, just able to make out the puddle of blood by his leg.

“It’s part of her cognition!” Morgana says. “Yui thinks he can hurt people like her so easily that she’s made it so.”

“Which is probably the same reason we’re taking hits so hard.” Ann says. 

In the distance, Akira can see Haru and Yusuke desperately trying to distract Takeda. They’re taking hit after painful hit, tossing healing items back and forth as their only means of staying standing.

Someone’s lifting him to his feet, balancing his weight on his good leg. “You guys rejoin the fight. Joker and I will fall back.” Ryuji says.

“I’ve got defense buffs coming up!” Futaba calls.

“I’ve got his attack down!” Ann says.

There’s a crash, then a scream, and then the room is lost to a flurry of combat.

Shadow Takeda is too close to the exit for them to be able to escape into the hallways, so Ryuji takes him behind the bar, where they can huddle and pray Takeda won’t notice them.

“It’s okay.” Ryuji says after a moment. His hand hasn’t left Akira’s shoulder, even as they’re comfortably seated on the floor. “I gotcha, Joker.”

“His name is Joker?” a voice asks. Akira looks up to see Yui poking her head out of the nearest vent.

“Yui?” Ryuji asks. “What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be hiding?”

“He’s like me,” she answers simply. “And I had to make sure he’s okay.”

She shuffles out of the vent, mindful of the battle going on over Akira’s head. The sounds are starting to blur together, a mishmash of Persona summoning and gunshots and desperate advice, but it’s enough to tell him that his team might not have much fight in them.

“It’s not much, but it’ll help you feel better,” she says, flattening a Hello Kitty band-aid over his gaping wound.

The pain does ebb slightly, much to his surprise. Is this another product of her cognition?

“Dad’s scary, but he’ll wear himself out eventually,” she assures him. “If he’s this mad, he’s already had a lot to drink.”

“We can’t leave you behind,” Akira grits out. The last thing he wants to think about is retreat, but she might have a point. This is looking like a hopeless fight.

“Don’t worry about me.” Yui smiles, the first smile Akira has seen from her. “You should go, though. You and your friends. It’s dangerous.”

“ _There you are!_ ”

Yui spins, the terror in her eyes knowing full well that voice is directed at her, but before she can flee, the needle skewers her arm. She screams, and only screams more when Takeda pulls the thread, yanking her right into his arms. Despite impaling her seconds previous, he cradles her against his chest, setting her on his hip like one would a toddler.

“Yui!” Ignoring the pain in his leg, Akira pops to his feet.

Shadow Takeda smiles at her, the crinkles in the corners of his eyes coming back. “ _I was so worried about you_ ,” he says, gently pulling the needle from her arm. He either doesn’t notice or doesn’t care about how much she’s bleeding over his clothes.

“Get Yui away from him!” Akira commands. He doesn’t know what effect this will have on the Palace, but he gets the sense that if Shadow Takeda is able to escape with Yui as his captive, then it’s all over.

Yui must realize the same thing, and while there’s clear fear in her eyes, she rips her gaze away from the product of her nightmares to plead to the Phantom Thieves. “No! Stay back! He’ll hurt you too!”

The walls tremble, but this time, they actually move. Tables and chairs scatter, smashing on impact as the walls shoot out and stretch and bend, creating a circular barrier around Yui and her father.

“Skull, Joker! Can you hear me?” Futaba’s voice crackles through their comms. “I’ve lost visual but I still have your signals!”

“Join the others.” Akira tells Ryuji. He can already spot the gaps in the new walls, and it wouldn’t be hard for Ryuji to slip through them. Besides, they’ll need all the backup possible when Yui releases that barrier. “I’ve got a plan.”

“But dude—”

“ _Go!_ ”

If Ryuji has any other protests, he doesn’t voice them. Instead, he nods, quickly locating the same gaps Akira saw and disappearing into one of them.

“Yui!” Akira yells. Thank God he sounds more confident than he feels. “You have to be honest with yourself! It’s the only way to stop this!”

He waits a second, wondering if she could even hear him, when a muffled voice calls back, “It’s fine! Everything is fine! I can just hold the both of us back forever! You just need to run!”

“We both know that’s not the truth!” Akira answers. “It’s okay to need help! You trust me, don’t you?”

There’s a pause, and Akira knows she just needs one more little push. She’s stubborn, and he can relate, but right now, he needs her to just _listen._

“We’re the same, right?” It gets easier to say every time.

“Okay!” Yui screams. “Okay, okay, okay, _fine!_ I’ll admit it, okay? _I need help!_ I can’t do this alone!”

The walls snap back into their proper places, leaving Shadow Takeda stunned. He whirls around, looking for the source of the voice, and scowls once his eyes settle on Akira.

“ _You stay out of this_ ,” he growls. “ _This is a matter between family!_ ”

Shadow Takeda rears back, intending to skewer Akira for interfering, when the needle is shot right out of his hands.

Above him, hanging from the overhead lights, Haru gives a triumphant grin.

Akira sees his opening. He takes aim and fires six quick shots into Shadow Takeda’s shoulder. Just as he hoped, Takeda flinches, and Yui falls from his arms, landing on her knees with a painful sounding thud.

The Phantom Thieves jump into action, striking Shadow Takeda as hard and as fast as they can while he’s disarmed.

Akira barely makes it a couple steps before his leg gives out on him, and he’s stuck on the sidelines like a sitting duck.

Yui’s watching him, wide-eyed, as if she too is waiting for his orders.

He’s about to tell her to go hide, when something behind her catches his eye. The needle lies abandoned in the far corner of the room. With how his leg is and how the fight is going, he couldn’t ask any of his teammates to go for it, but Yui might just be the perfect candidate.

“The needle!” Akira commands. Yui doesn’t need any further explanation and makes a mad dash for the fallen weapon.

Unfortunately, that had the added effect of tipping off Shadow Takeda. He immediately sees what Yui and Akira are up to and redoubles his efforts on getting the Phantom Thieves away from him.

Yui trips, falling to her knees right in front of the needle, and she scrambles to pick it up. It’s about as thick as a metal pipe, and her fingers struggle to find purchase on the slick surface.

Shadow Takeda roars, throwing everyone off of him with a swing of his massive arms, and goes barreling for her.

“ _Give me that back, you little bitch!_ ”

Yui finally finds her grip, holding it by the eye.

“I’m not letting you control me anymore!” she screams, swinging the needle around just in time to thrust it through her father’s chest.

In that moment, Yui stops breathing, and the whole Palace seems to shudder under the weight of what she’s done.

Unlike for the Phantom Thieves, this man wasn’t just another Shadow to defeat. Despite everything that had happened, this was still her father.

It was the man that chased her down the hallways, listening to her cackle with glee. The man who sewed up her stuffies when they got hurt and played hide-and-seek with her and her sister.

But also the man who drunk himself into a stupor, a man so dangerous she had to develop a knack for hiding just to keep from being beaten. The man she loved with all her heart, to the point that the guilt ate her alive when she had to go no-contact with him for her own wellbeing. A man she held in such high regard that she couldn’t bring herself to throw away the letters he sent her, even long after he’d passed away and the letters were nothing but a source of pain.

“ _Yui…_ ” Shadow Takeda’s arms go limp at his sides. “ _I’m…_ ” Whatever he wanted to say is cut off as his physical form dissolves, and the needle in his chest clatters to the ground.

“Dad…?” she whimpers.

“Someone go comfort her.” Akira says as Ryuji jogs over to help him back to his feet.

“Yui!” Ann calls, making clear, careful steps over toward her. “Are you okay?”

Yui throws herself at the other girl as soon as she’s close enough, wrapping her arms tight around Ann’s waist until Ann doesn’t have a choice but to hug back. She’s sobbing so hard she can barely breathe. “I killed him!” It’s clear she’s not talking about recent events.

“No, you didn’t.” Ann keeps her voice calm. “You did what you had to do to protect yourself. And that’s okay.”

Akira hobbles his way over, placing his hand on her shoulder. He has to think for a moment, trying to imagine what he’d want to hear after a Palace fight like that.

“You did a really good job, Yui,” he says finally. “I’m proud of you.”

“I miss him.” Yui speaks quietly, like she’s admitted a secret she’s kept even from herself.

“That’s okay too.” Ryuji says. “Sometimes you miss people even when they hurt ya. Especially if they’re family.”

“What do I do now?” Yui wipes at her eyes, her sleeves a mess of snot, tears, and blood.

“Return to your body in the real world.” Morgana tells her. “She’ll learn the same thing you did, and maybe you’ll be able to move past all this.”

Yui sniffles. “I’d like to. It’s not fun being all alone like this.” Her form begins to shimmer and fade, and she pulls out of Ann’s arms with a gasp. “What’s happening? Am I going back?”

“You’ll be just fine.” Akira promises.

“Okay.” She looks down at her feet before drumming up the courage to speak. “Thank you! For everything.”

Akira nods. “It’s what we do.”

She darts forward, wrapping Akira in a hug before he has the chance to react. And with her pinned to his chest, he has no choice but to hug back.

They have a few moments before her body fades. Without someone to help hold him upright, Akira stumbles. Ryuji is back beside him in seconds.

“Joker…” Haru says. She doesn’t turn her head to look at him as he speaks.

“I’m fine,” Akira responds. Whatever she’s about to say, he doesn’t want to hear it. “We don’t need to talk about it.”

Ann frowns, crossing her arms over her chest. “Well, maybe some of us want to talk about it.”

“Panther…” Makoto warns. She gives a none-too-subtle nod in Akira’s direction.

He knows he must look a mess, one leg barely functional, but does what they know now change how they see him? Do they see their teammate, their leader, injured, or do they see a _regressor_ when they look at him? Regardless, he can’t think of that now. They’re almost done, but they still have a few things to take care of.

“The Treasure first.” Akira says. The adrenaline is steadily draining out of his body, leaving him tired, hurt, and maybe a teeny bit regressed.

“Well, I don’t think we’re in any rush if we need to split up and search.” Yusuke says.

“No need.” Futaba says, striding over to the giant discarded needle. “If my readings are correct, the Treasure is right here.”

Makoto furrows her brow. “The source of her distorted desires was a sewing needle?”

As if on cue, the needle rises into the air and glows, shrinking down to its appropriate size. Akira squints. It’s a key, from the looks of it. Maybe the key to the bunker itself? Or maybe to the security room Shadow Takeda was hiding in? Either way, it’s theirs now.

Akira breathes a sigh of relief. The worst is over.

The Treasure is theirs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Snuggles are guaranteed next chapter btw


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As it turns out, have 2k of a chapter already written doesn't mean much when the chapter ends up being twice that length xD
> 
> Also I stole all these nicknames from datawolf39 oops

“Oh, you’re—” Sojiro stops short, seeing the small crowd that’s formed in his café. “You’re all back.” His eyes move to Akira, and the worry lines in his face come back with a vengeance.

Akira can’t blame him. He knows he must look a sight. Even on their way out of the Palace, his injury still wouldn’t heal, so Makoto and Haru did they best they could with their minor first aid knowledge. They were able to stop the bleeding, but that did nothing to help the pain, and he still couldn’t walk without being supported by someone else. Ryuji was more than happy to volunteer.

No one’s said a word since they left the Palace, least of all Akira. He still hasn’t had the will to look any of them in the eye yet, his glassy gaze fixed on his shoes the entire walk home.

“Is he okay?”

The group glances between each other, flashing looks of wild-eyed panic, before Makoto sighs and steps forward. “He’ll be fine. Akira tripped down the stairs on our way back from Shibuya, so we wanted to walk him home. We promise to be quiet.”

Sojiro sighs and shakes his head. “You’re just a magnet for trouble lately.” He nods to Makoto. “I’ll be up later to check on him.”

The trip up the stairs is the hardest. Ryuji tries his best, but Yusuke has to come in on Akira’s other side to help, and the two of them practically carry him up the stairs and over to his bed.

“Careful. Easy now.” Ryuji says. He takes extra care in lowering Akira onto his bed, and sits down beside him afterward.

The others trickle in one by one, putting their schoolbags down by the door, basically doing anything but make eye contact with him.

He can’t blame them. It’s awkward, and it’s only made more awkward by the fact that no one wants to speak first. It doesn’t help that he’s definitely regressed. He didn’t mean to, but the train ride home, being fussed over by Makoto and Haru, and admittedly almost falling asleep on Ryuji’s shoulder all served to push him over the edge.

Luckily for the rest of them, Yusuke has no such reservations. 

“So you regress as well.” Yusuke muses. The others shuffle in around him. “And we didn’t even notice.”

Even with Ryuji beside him, he feels so small with Makoto and the others hovering over him. Tears build in his eyes before he can stop them, and swallowing back a lump in his throat, he nods.

Haru tilts her head at him. She must be slowly putting the pieces together. How quiet he’s been, his injury, the emotional exhaustion after dealing with Yui. “Are you… regressed right now?”

Akira ducks his head, trying to hide the tears he can’t stop, and nods. It’s one thing for them to know, another thing for him to regress right in front of them. The last thing he wants is for them to feel pressured into doing anything they wouldn’t normally do.

Makoto shakes her head, frustration obviously in her tone. “This is too many people. We should just let him rest. This is too intense of a talk to have right after a battle. Everyone, out.”

“No!” It slips out before he can stop it. Akira can handle being crowded but he _absolutely_ does not want to be left alone.

If he’s alone, then his imagination will run wild of his friends talking about him behind his back and making fun of him and—

Akira drops his head, going back to staring at his shoes. God, he’s being stupid. He’s being stupid and clingy and far too needy.

“Hey…” Whatever Ryuji was going to say, he doesn’t finish the thought, instead turning to Haru. “Give me the Treasure.”

“Why?” Haru asks. Out of all of them, they’d agreed she’d draw the fewest stares from openly carrying a stuffed toy, so she’d been the one to bring it back with them.

Ryuji taps his foot impatiently. “Just hand it over! I’ve got an idea.”

Akira keeps his head down, and as a result, jolts as a soft paw wipes at his cheek.

Ryuji grins like he’s won the lottery. “Hi there.”

Yui’s Treasure had been a teddy bear, one they found out was an exact replica of one she’d had when she was young. Unsurprisingly, it had been a gift from her father, a way of apologizing for his drunken rampage the night previous. It wasn’t anything special, just a simple teddy bear with a red bow around its neck, but Akira couldn’t help wanting it just as much.

Akira looks at the bear instead of Ryuji. It’s not what Ryuji wants, but it’s close enough.

“Buttons are hard, yeah? Let me take off your jacket and you can have him. How’s that sound?”

It doesn’t sound that bad. His school clothes are itchy anyway. Akira nods in agreement, pliantly moving his arms to his sides as Ryuji gets to work unbuttoning his jacket.

“Ryuji, I’m impressed.” Yusuke muses.

“Don’t act so surprised. Sometimes I gotta babysit kids in my building.”

“Mainly I’m just surprised you have the capacity to keep your voice so low.” Yusuke says, which is enough prompting for Ryuji to pitch Akira’s jacket directly into Yusuke’s face.

Akira giggles, and Ryuji visibly preens at the approval. “Let’s get that leg elevated too, okay? Can I get your shoes?”

That sounds like a good idea. Shoes are hard. Laces are hard. Akira nods.

Futaba inches forward. “Just to be sure… You do want us to stay, right? All of us?”

All of them? Why wouldn’t he want all of them? If they wanted to stay, actually stay, he wasn’t going to run them off.

He nods, and Futaba breaks out in a relieved grin. “Good. Hug?”

Akira hesitantly lifts up his arms, the way he’s seen little kids do when they want to be picked up, and Futaba almost trips over Ryuji in her scramble to hug him.

Yusuke inches closer, looking more than a little out of his element. “I must apologize for not noticing sooner. To think the Palace would be putting such a strain on you, all without us noticing. Can you forgive us?”

Forgive them? What did they even have to be sorry for? It’s not their fault for not noticing, especially when they had more important things to worry about.

Ryuji finishes untying his shoes, and Akira shifts his attention to elevating his leg. He’s not bleeding anymore, but he’s still worried about accidentally making a mess.

“Well, he’s very nonverbal.” Makoto notes.

Morgana, who’s been quietly watching the scene unfold from Akira’s bed, speaks up. “I think we should avoid big questions like that for the time being.”

“Yeah, but he’s always been quiet.” Ryuji points out, folding up a pillow to slip under Akira’s foot. Finally, Ryuji hands over the promised teddy bear, which Akira immediately wraps up in a hug. It’s just as soft as it looks.

“Yusuke does have a point, though. This Palace must have been so hard for you.” Makoto says. She sinks into a crouch, and she looks a lot less scary now that she isn’t hanging over him. “To hear those things people have said to her, to hear how people might reject you.”

Akira nods slowly. His eyes well again, but he ducks his head to make it less noticeable. Ryuji sits beside him again, and he feels a little safer with Ryu and Taba next to him.

Makoto presses on. “Not to mention all the unkind things we said during that first meeting.” Her voice is so calm and soft; it makes it harder to keep from breaking down again.

“I’m really sorry for sayin’ it was weird.” Ryuji adds. He rubs a hand up and down Akira’s arm.

“You must’ve felt so isolated.”

Akira swallows back his fear. Words are hard, especially now, but he needs to speak. “I was scared.” Akira admits.

If anything, that throws Makoto for a loop. “Scared? What for?”

“That you’d find out and hate me.” It sounds stupid now that he’s said it out loud, but it’s the truth.

“Aww, dude!” Ryuji wraps him up in a tight hug, which by proxy has to end up including Futaba as well. “We could never hate you!”

“Absolutely not.” Yusuke agrees.

“Never!” Futaba adds.

“And we’d love to take care of you!” Haru pipes up. “You’ve done so much for all of us, and we care about you so much! We’ll do whatever we can to help!”

Akira blinks in surprise. He didn’t even think his friends would want to be around him. Now he really can’t stop the tears welling up in his eyes. “Promise?”

Now it’s Morgana’s turn to jump in, literally. He plops on Akira’s lap like he owns the place. “I’ll make them keep that promise,” he says.

Ann, Haru, and Yusuke are still holding back, but from the way they’re inching forward, they desperately want to join in on the comforting.

Makoto must see it too, because she gently touches her fingers to the back of his hand. “Akira, this isn’t too much for you, is it? I remember reading that regressors are especially sensitive to their surroundings. Do you need us to give you some space?”

Space? No, the last thing Akira wants is space. He wants to be snuggled and cuddled to the point where he can’t get out of bed. However, such words seem beyond his capability, so instead, he just shakes his head.

Makoto seems to understand. “You like being held,” she concludes.

He nods. He nods so hard he can feel the beginnings of a headache at the base of his skull. 

A tiny smile comes to her face, but it’s not enough to cloud out the worry and sympathy highlighting her features. “It has been a long day, hasn’t it?” She runs a hand through his hair, tucking a stray curl behind his ear.

“Hey, no fair!” Ann protests. “Futaba and Ryuji have been hogging him since we got back.”

“I would also like a chance to comfort him.” Yusuke adds.

“Well, if Inari gets a turn, I better get a second turn first!” Futaba says, which triggers another round of bickering between her and Yusuke.

“Um, I’d like a turn too, please.” Haru says, but her naturally quiet voice is drowned out by the sound of those two arguing.

Groaning, Makoto pulls out her phone and sets a five-minute timer. “Here. This way everyone gets a turn. Haru first.”

Ann frowns. “What? Why?”

“Because she’s the only one using her inside voice.” Makoto turns back to Akira, placing a gentle hand on his knee. “Does that sound good? Would you like one-on-one time with everyone?”

Akira blinks. Frankly, he can’t get over the idea that his friends even want to give him cuddles in the first place, but he won’t say no to them. One-on-one time sounds good, too; it’s a little embarrassing to be the center of attention.

The others grumble their protests, but nonetheless head over to the couch and start setting up the table on the opposite side of the room.

“No worries, Haru!” Ryuji chirps. Unlike Futaba, he still hasn’t let go of Akira. “I don’t mind sharin’.”

Makoto rolls her eyes. “Ryuji, you have to wait your turn as well. It’s one-on-one time.”

“Aw man.” Ryuji pouts, but nonetheless detaches himself Akira’s shoulders. Akira stomps down the urge to latch onto the back of Ryuji’s shirt. He didn’t realize just how quickly he’d miss being held like that.

Luckily, Haru wastes no time swooping in and filling that empty space. “How would you like to be held?” she asks. She sounds almost eager to hold him. “Would you like to be in my lap?”

He nods, draping his legs over her lap and resting his head against her shoulder. It’s an added bonus that he can hide his face in her hair.

Haru smiles as she readjusts the pillow so he can keep his leg elevated. “You’re so cute,” she coos.

Akira isn’t sure how to respond to that, so he just buries his face in her shoulder to hide.

She coos again. “He’s shy!” She gives him a comforting squeeze around his waist. “That’s okay. We can just sit here if it helps.” Her fingers weave through his curls, an action that’s unbearably soothing in his regressed mindset.

As he tunes into his surroundings—which he realizes with a start he’d been dissociating from since they left the Palace—he notices just how quiet everyone is being. Their voices barely go above a whisper when they do speak, but for the most part, everyone is basking in the quiet.

He appreciates that. A lot.

It isn’t long before he melts against Haru’s shoulder. The constant, soothing motion of her hand in his hair pushing him further into headspace.

It feels weird to be this deep, all weird and floaty. Not a bad weird, though. More like weird in the sense that he’d never allowed himself to let his head get this fuzzy before. He doesn’t mind it, he just doesn’t know how long it’ll last.

“Do you mind if I ask a question?” Haru asks after a long moment.

Akira opens his eyes, not even aware he’d been falling asleep. He blinks up at Ruru, hoping she takes that as a yes. Words are hard again.

“Do you have any toys?”

Akira averts his eyes. He still has his impulse buys from the drugstore, stashed away at the bottom of his suitcase, but he can’t tell them that. Being little is one thing, _toys_ are one thing, but a _pacifier?_ No, he didn’t want to test his friends’ tolerance, not tonight.

“Well, we’ll definitely have to fix that.” Haru soothes, mistaking his silence for longing.

“Don’t need anything.” Akira mutters. He forces the words out, but they feel awkward and stilted on his tongue. He doesn’t like this conversation. Instead he focuses on squeezing the teddy in his arms, wondering when he’ll have to give it back, and hides his face back in Haru’s shoulder.

This time when Ruru smiles, she looks a little sadder. “That’s okay,” she says. “We can go slow.”

They stay like that a few more minutes before Makoto’s alarm goes off.

“My turn!” Ryuji cheers.

Akira glances up to see they’ve all but playing competitive rounds of tic-tac-toe to decide who goes when. Yusuke has taken to drawing on the discarded sheets of paper, so he must’ve been out of the running for some time now.

“C’mere, little guy.” Next thing he knows, he’s being guided into Ryuji’s lap, so his back is against Ryuji’s chest. He instinctively melts into the warmth.

Ryuji waits until he’s settled before he starts asking questions. Akira gets the distinct feeling that’s what most of this one-on-one time is going to be—lots of questions.

“So what do you like to do?”

Akira realizes with a start that the others must think he’s been regressing for a while, that this isn’t as terrifyingly new to him as it is to them. “Dunno.”

“Well that’s no fun. We’ll put together something special, alright?” Ryuji lets it drop there, instead combing his fingers through Akira’s hair.

Akira hums contentedly. He really likes having his hair played with, something that everyone else must be realizing too. Before he’s conscious of what he’s doing, he puts the knuckle of his index finger to his lips and sucks.

“Oral fixation.” Makoto murmurs, presumably to the others. “Noted.”

Futaba is next, and she gladly takes Ryuji’s place. Despite being so much shorter than him, it works well.

“Okay, you know I have to ask,” she says. While he doesn’t like the prospect of more questions, her giddiness is contagious. When Futaba smiles, he always feels like he has to smile back. “What are your favorite shows to watch while little?”

Akira shrugs. He’d never really thought about it before. He thinks back to the shows he’d caught playing on TVs at electronics stores. “Like Ponyo,” he mumbles around his knuckle.

Futaba is glowing. “We can watch _Ponyo_!” After a moment, Akira realizes that’s the first question he’s had a legit answer for. “Oh, we have so much else to watch! I’ve got DVD sets for _Yokai Watch_ , and _Precure_ , and _Aikatsu_!”

Akira’s eyes go wide. That’s so many shows!

“Futaba, you’re overwhelming him!” Ann chides.

“We’ll go slow,” she reassures him, booping him on the nose for good measure.

When Makoto’s turn comes up, she doesn’t scoop him up right away, and while Akira wants to pout at that, the look in her eyes shows she has something more planned.

“Yusuke and I made something special for you,” she begins. In her hands is a box of plain band-aids, but when she opens it, she pulls out band-aids with cartoon characters drawn on them. “It’s Buchimaru-kun!” she explains. “So you can have special band-aids too.”

Akira’s eyes go wide. He’s kept the Hello Kitty band-aid for as long as he could, but he doubts it’s going to last much longer.

Once again reading his mind, Makoto asks, “Would you like to try one now?”

He nods, sticking out his hand. He wants it right where he can see it, because Yu probably worked real hard on it and he wants to appreciate it.

“You want it here?” she asks, tapping his cheek.

He indicates his hand again.

“Here?” She pokes his arm.

Akira is confused, until he glances up and sees the playful smile on her lips. Oh. She’s teasing him.

“Mako!” he whines.

Makoto laughs. “Okay, I’m sorry.” She obligingly flattens a band-aid across his palm, making sure it isn’t so tight that he can’t move his hand before pulling him into a cuddle.

By the time Ann’s turn rolls around, Akira is practically dozing. She doesn’t seem to mind, and instead lets him rest his head in her lap. Akira pulls the covers up to his chin, basking in the warmth as she strokes his hair. The others are talking in hushed tones, too quiet for him to hear what’s being said, so he lets the noise wash over him.

He’s not sure how long the silence lasts before it’s interrupted.

“Boss is coming!” Morgana meows.

Makoto is across the room in a flash, whipping the comforter away from him. Ann takes his teddy and pitches it to Ryuji, who manages to stuff it behind the storage shelves before Boss can see.

“How’s our guy?” Sojiro asks. He has a plate of toast in one hand and a first aid kit in the other.

“A little dizzy, so we had him lie down.” Ann answers. It seems natural for her to speak up, considering she’s the one with Akira’s head in her lap.

Sojiro sighs. “Let me look at that leg then.” He sits on the other end of Akira’s bed, rolling up his bloodied pant leg. “Good Lord, kid, did you trip and fall directly on a knife?” Before Akira can answer, something else catches his attention. “Is this a Hello Kitty band-aid?”

“It was all I had.” Ann speaks up. It’s a weak excuse, but Sojiro doesn’t question it any further.

Akira sits up and nibbles on his toast so he doesn’t have to talk. Sojiro makes quick work of bandaging up his leg.

“Make sure he finishes that. I doubt he’s been eating.” Sojiro just has to glance at Akira to confirm his suspicions. But before he leaves, a fondness crosses his face. “A magnet for trouble,” he says, repeating his earlier sentiments.

Once he’s gone, Ann leans forward, eyeing him suspiciously. “Have you been eating?”

“Not well!” Morgana pipes up. “All he eats is that instant garbage.”

“Absolutely not!” Haru says, startling everyone with her sudden display of emotion. “Not in my house, Akira! I’m getting you homecooked vegetables whether you like it or not!”

“I had no idea you were so passionate about people’s diets.” Yusuke says.

Futaba snickers. “You don’t even wanna know what this guy eats like.”

“Like you’re one to talk.”

“We’ll get you straightened out.” Ann promises, cutting through their bickering before it can begin. She takes his plate from him, noting how he all but collapses back into her lap. “I think it’s time for little boys to go to bed.” Ann freezes, her fingers going tense in his hair. “Oh, I’m sorry, was that over the line?”

“Like being called little.” Akira hums. “Like being told what to do.”

“We’ll check in tomorrow, okay?” Futaba asks.

“Someone stay?” he requests. It sounds babyish, even to his own ears, but he wants someone with him when he falls asleep.

“I’ve got this one, guys.” Morgana says. “I think my turn was coming up anyway.”

With a sigh, Ann stands. “I’m just saying, we could’ve done a sleepover.”

“Because Boss wouldn’t have found that weird at all.” Ryuji jokes.

“What if I just stay then? He fell asleep on _my_ lap, after all?”

“Hey, no fair! How come you—”

“We’re all leaving.” Makoto interrupts them with an authoritativeness that makes them all immediately clam up. “We’re not having this fight again.”

“Ugh, fine.” While Ann is making no effort to hide her pouting, when she looks at Akira, she’s all softness and smiles. She sticks her arms out. “Goodbye hug?”

Akira smiles shyly, pushing himself up into a sitting position. “Please.”

Ann leans in, wrapping her arms around his neck. He can’t help burying his face into her hair, taking in the soft scent of lavender shampoo. “Bye, little guy. Get some rest, okay? And thank you for telling us.” She pulls back, but only to crouch down to his eye level. With a grin, she takes his hands in her own. “God, I’m going to spoil you rotten!”

She gives him one last hug, and Akira notices a small line has formed behind her. Do they really all want to say goodbye?

Makoto is first in line, and she crouches, tucking a stray lock of hair behind his ear.

“You did amazingly.” Makoto murmurs, in that soft voice that makes him want to cry all over again. “Thank you for trusting us with this.”

Haru comes up behind her, brushing back Akira’s bangs and planting a kiss right on his forehead. “Sweet dreams!”

Yusuke is next, but as he opens his mouth to speak, Futaba pivots around him and tackles Akira into the biggest hug she can muster.

“You always make me feel so safe, so I’ll fight anyone who’s mean to you, got it?” She ruffles his hair, causing him to squeal with glee and try to pull away.

“Must you rile him? He was about to sleep, you know.” Yusuke chides. Futaba sticks her tongue out at him on her way out, which only makes him smirk. “While I make no promises to fight anyone, I do express the same sentiments. If you ever need someone to accompany you somewhere, I will gladly make myself available.”

Akira blinks at him. “Hug?”

“Most certainly.” Yu’s hugs are delicate, like he’s handling a precious piece of art. It’s really no fair that Akira got sleepy before Yusuke’s turn.

Last up is Ryuji, who’s been hanging back for a while now. Akira just thought he didn’t want a goodbye hug, but as he crouches, Akira realizes it’s something more serious.

“Hey, Akira? I know you’re tired, but you gotta promise me something. If anything comes up, and I mean anything, I want you to come to me, okay? Even if you just need someone to stick around for a couple hours, even if you just feel overwhelmed and need someone to walk you home. Okay?”

That sounds good. Really good. Fuzzy days don’t seem so scary if he has Ryu looking out for him. Usually he’d take an offer like that and half-heartedly agree, but like Yui, he’s learning he needs help sometimes. “Okay.”

“Promise?”

“Pinkie promise.” Akira says, sticking out his pinkie for good measure.

Ryuji grins, hooking his pinkie around Akira’s. “Sleep tight, lil guy.”

Akira watches them go, the top of their heads disappearing down the staircase. Futaba keeps popping back up to wave one last goodbye, and if it weren’t for Yusuke, she probably wouldn’t have left at all.

He can’t believe they still like him, and more importantly, that they seem fond of him.

Morgana butts his head against Akira’s arm, snapping him out of his daze. “You should probably get to bed.”

Akira nods and takes off his glasses to put on the windowsill. He doesn’t want to misplace them like he did the other day, though now that he thinks about it, it was probably Sojiro that took them off for him, since he remembers falling asleep with them on. He flops against his pillow.

“Hey!” Morgana bats at his face until he’s forced to open his eyes. “Don’t you wanna change into your comfy clothes?”

Akira whines, clutching his teddy a little closer. “Too tired. ’Sides, you’re the one always tellin’ me to go to bed.”

Morgana chuckles, thankfully letting the subject drop. “I guess you’ve got a point.”

Morgana grabs the edge of the comforter with his teeth, dragging it over Akira’s shoulders, and curls up on the opposite half of Akira’s pillow.

“You did good today, little guy,” are the last words Akira hears before he drifts off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tfw you're Yusuke and you don't even get a turn to cuddle Akira :((


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's the promised second chapter of fluff~

Akira wakes up big, and the first thing that comes to mind is how badly he’d embarrassed himself the night before.

Part of him wants to leave an apology in the group chat and live out the rest of the year in hiding, but before he can even finish the thought, a voice in the back of his mind reminds him how _calm_ he feels.

There’s a weight off his chest, one that’s been pressing down on him for so long that he didn’t even notice it was there anymore, and now in its absence, he feels that much calmer.

Even if the others want to pretend like last night didn’t happen, even if it was just a one-time thing, he knows this is a part of himself he can’t deny anymore.

“You’re making faces,” Morgana says in lieu of a good morning. He doesn’t even open his eyes, still perched comfortably on the other half of Akira’s pillow.

Akira turns his head in Morgana’s direction. Morgana was there, too, so he should be able to give a straight answer. “They still like me, right?”

Morgana opens one eye, face turned in sympathy. “Maybe you should eat something. It’ll help clear your head.” He turns back into Akira’s pillow, burying his face in his paws. “Besides, I said I’d make them keep their promise and I meant it.”

And they _did_ promise to be there for him. It just so happened that he really, really wanted them here as well.

“That sounds like a good idea.” Akira hastily combs his fingers through his hair, hoping to look like slightly less of a mess before he goes downstairs. He can’t do anything about his dirty school clothes, which will definitely need a thorough wash before school Monday, but he can at least do something about his bedhead.

As he stands, fresh pain shoots up his leg, and he almost immediately plops back down on the bed.

“You should stay in bed.” Morgana chides, taking full command of Akira’s pillow. “Boss isn’t going to let you go anywhere when he sees you limping.”

Akira wrinkles his nose. He isn’t limping _that_ badly. Besides, he ran out of emergency food up here a while back, so it’s not like he has a choice if he wants to eat. And Morgana’s the one that told him he needed to eat anyway! The cat’s a hypocrite.

He barely makes it down the stairs before Sojiro spots him.

“Are you _limping?_ ” Sojiro asks.

Akira braces himself on the banister, trying to look a little steadier as Sojiro glares him down. “Only a little.”

“Oh, no. Absolutely not. You go back up those stairs and elevate your leg, young man. And don’t even think of going anywhere today.”

If he hadn’t been feeling small already, that was just the push he needed. It’s still stunning do think that there’s someone that cares enough to tell him what to do. Akira ducks his head and murmurs, “Yes, sir.”

Sojiro calls after him, “I’ll have one of your friends bring your breakfast up, but don’t get too used to the special treatment.”

Akira nods his understanding, turns, and hobbles back up the stairs.

After a moment’s pause, the only patrons at the moment, the elderly couple that drops by mostly to chat, speak up.

“Why, Sojiro, I had no idea you’d adopted another one,” the older woman croons.

“I didn’t. He’s just—a part-timer.”

“Whatever you say, dear.”

It amazes him how Morgana manages to look cocky even while he’s half-asleep. “Told you so.”

Akira sticks his tongue out as he hobbles his way over to the bed and fumbles for his phone. He doesn’t like to start the conversations himself, but today has to be an exception. It’s still kind of early, at least by Sunday standards.

He pauses, frowning. Why does he feel so nervous about texting his friends?

Before he can back down, Morgana’s head butts into his shoulder. “Go ahead. They want to see you.”

Maybe he should break the ice with a joke. _Anyone up yet?_

As soon as he hits send, he’s overwhelmed with doubt. That wasn’t nearly as funny as he wanted it to be, but before he can spiral, a flurry of responses greet him.

_Barely_ , Futaba answers.

_Honestly. I’m so sore after that fight!_ Ann says.

_How ya feeling today, bud?_ Ryuji asks.

_Good_. Akira types. After a moment of thought, he adds. _Small._

Ann types back, _!!!!_

_May we see you?_ Yusuke asks.

_Please._ Akira answers. _Miss everyone._

The next minute or so sees the chat flooding with heart emojis and keysmashes.

Akira grins, happy to know last night wasn’t a fluke. It’s easy to get swept up into their excitement.

_Sojiro says I’m not allowed out of bed :(_

_HE’S RIGHT AND HE SHOULD SAY IT,_ Futaba responds.

_You were hurt rather badly._ Yusuke agrees.

_We’re on our way!_ Makoto says. _Would you like someone to keep texting you while we meet up?_

How does Makoto know him so well already? It’s kind of shocking that she knows all this just from reading articles. He texts back the affirmative, and Haru stays on, giving him updates about where they’re meeting up, but also just chatting with him about his favorite foods.

They’re in the middle of a very philosophical debate on puppies vs kittens when he hears the bell chime downstairs.

“I was wondering when you kids were gonna show up.” Sojiro jokes.

“We had to make sure he was okay after last night.” Mako!

“Good. Bring him this. And make sure he doesn’t try and go anywhere. He was limping when he came down earlier.”

Akira sits up straighter, trying not to bounce with excitement as a familiar head of red hair pokes up from the stairway.

“Kira!” Futaba rushes over, catching him in a big hug. Yusuke, Haru, and Makoto join her a moment later, but no Ann or Ryuji. Did they not want to be here?

Makoto gives him a sympathetic smile. “Ann and Ryuji had to make a detour. They should be here in a bit.”

Akira nods. That makes sense. At least they aren’t avoiding him.

“How’s your leg, little one?” Yusuke asks. He’s carrying a tray of pancakes, which he sets gently in Akira’s lap.

“Hard to walk, Yu.”

While Yusuke tries to be sympathetic, his lips can’t help twitching at the nickname. “We’ll take care of anything you need.”

Giggling, Futaba tightens her hold around his neck, smushing their cheeks together. “Yeah, we can make Inari get it!”

Yusuke rolls his eyes, but he can’t keep the fondness out of his expression. “Not what I meant, but I will if you need something.” On a whim, he reaches out to ruffle Akira’s hair, and makes a small sound of surprise. “Your curls are just as soft as they look.”

Haru busies herself cutting up his pancakes for him. “Would you like to hear the news about Yui?” she asks.

“You’ve already heard back?”

Haru nods. “Nanami contacted me this morning. Apparently Yui told her everything about using regression as a coping mechanism and they ended up talking almost all night. Plus, Yui finally agreed to talk to her therapist about that and everything with her dad! Isn’t that great?”

“It is.” Akira agrees.

“We’re quite fortunate you were able to get through to her.” Yusuke adds.

“Oh, totally.” Futaba says. “The way her Palace reacted to stuff was crazy!” She glances at the others, and then continues, a little quieter. “I’ve been thinking a lot about it actually. And it must have been… really tough to see all that with her friends especially. You’re made of tough stuff, Akira.”

Akira flushes. Somehow just the confirmation that he did _good_ , that he was able to _help_ , is enough to make his chest warm. “Thanks.”

“I hope you’re hungry.” Haru says.

Akira nods. “Can Momo have some too?”

Morgana’s tail flicks. There’s food in the room and suddenly he couldn’t be more awake. “I have been keeping an eye on him for you guys,” he points out.

“Fine. A piece for Kira.” She holds out the fork, and Akira realizes a beat later that she’s offering to feed him.

He can’t remember the last time he’d been fed like this, but it’s nice, if a little awkward. After all, he has no idea what to do with his hands.

“And one for Momo.” To keep things sanitary, she holds Morgana’s piece in her fingers, but he doesn’t seem to mind.

“So not to be pushy or anything…” Futaba begins. She drops her backpack and pulls out a giant DVD binder. Akira’s eyes go wide. Most of these shows he doesn’t even recognize. “But I might have stayed up late last night putting all the shows we’re gonna watch in chronological order.”

“Say ahh!” Haru chimes. Akira’s face burns at how easily he got distracted, but she just giggles like he’s the cutest thing in the universe.

Futaba continues, “I was thinking we could start with the other Ghibli movies before moving on to _Yokai Watch_. I’ve even got a few boots of Western shows if you wanted to try that.”

Yusuke leans forward, gawking at the sheer amount of DVDs she’s amassed. “What an impressive collection.”

Futaba cracks a grin. “You wanna join in on the watch parties, Inari?”

“If Akira will have me, of course.”

“Sorry you didn’t get cuddles last night, Yu.” Akira says around a mouthful of pancake.

“It’s quite alright, little one. You were very tired.”

The bell downstairs chimes again.

“Hey, Boss! Heading upstairs!” Ann says. She rushes in like a mini-tornado, the plastic bag hooked around her wrist fluttering in the chaos. “Sorry we’re late!”

“Where were you?” Futaba asks. “You said you’d be here fifteen minutes ago.”

“Akihabara. We had to get something special for our little guy!”

Ryuji shuffles in a moment later, holding a glass of orange juice filled almost to the brim. Akira wonders if Sojiro did that on purpose so Ryuji wouldn’t trample up the stairs like Ann. “Here. This is from Boss.”

Akira takes the glass with both hands, being extra careful not to spill as he takes his first few drinks. Haru hums her approval as she finished cutting up the last of his pancakes for him.

“And this is from us!” Ann hands him the plastic bag, the handles of which have been tied to look like the bow of a present.

Akira easily undoes the knot and pulls out the object inside.

_Ponyo_.

“Because you said you liked it!” Ryuji says. “We thought we could watch it while your leg heals up.”

Akira runs his thumb over the plastic case, as if trying to confirm it’s real might just make it disappear. “You bought this?”

“We did.” Ann says.

“ _I_ did.” Ryuji corrects.

“No, you paid me back by covering my half!”

“Fine.” Ryuji says with an exaggerated roll of his eyes “‘We’ did, but this better mean you’ll drop me owing you money for good.”

“We can watch it?” Akira asks, his voice small and scared.

Ann nods. “Anytime you want!”

“We can watch it now?”

“How about after you finish your breakfast?” Haru suggests, offering him another bite of pancake, which he gladly takes.

While he and Haru clean up the last of his plate, Makoto is already trying to get everything in order. “Okay, we’ll start off with Yusuke since he didn’t get a turn last night and just repeat—”

Akira whines. No more timers! He doesn’t want to be passed around during the movie. With movies especially, he likes to stay in one place so he can focus. “Wanna snuggle everyone.”

Futaba cheers. “Kira has spoken and he wants a cuddle puddle!”

It takes a little creativity to create a space that accommodates all nine of them. They push his bed up against the couch, which fortunately means they don’t have to move the TV.

Akira sits propped up against Yusuke’s chest, since Yusuke didn’t get a chance for snuggles last night. Ann and Ryuji claim their spots on either side of him before anyone else can get a chance, making the three of them in charge of cuddling Akira while the others get the DVD and blankets set up. Akira entertains himself by playing with Ryuji’s fingers.

“How old are you, buddy?” Ryuji asks.

Akira hums in thought before carefully pinning down Ryuji’s thumb and pinkie.

“You’re three?”

Akira nods.

“Aww, you’re so little!” Ann coos. She seems three seconds from pinching his cheek at any given moment, not that Akira minds.

“Are you excited for the movie, little one?” Yusuke asks. He snuggles just like he hugs, his hands gentle and warm.

Akira nods. He’s never seen _Ponyo_ in its entirety before, but he gets the feeling that he’s going to be watching a lot of shows and movies for the first time, especially if Futaba has her way.

Haru giggles as she unfolds a cozy looking quilt. Akira doesn’t recognize it, even as she tosses it over the four of them. Did she bring it from home? “The best part is Sosuke loves Ponyo no matter what she is. Sounds familiar, don’t you think?”

Yusuke hugs Akira a little closer. “What a charming sentiment. I’m sure this will be an excellent learning opportunity for me.”

“Wait, you’ve _never_ seen Ponyo?” Futaba asks, aghast, as she and Haru start piling the rest of Akira’s blankets and pillows.

“Madarame wasn’t fond of movies.” Yusuke explains. “He claimed they were mindless entertainment.”

“Okay, now you have no choice in joining the watch party.” Futaba says. She points at him dramatically, proving she means business. “It’s officially non-negotiable!”

“If Akira will have me.”

“Yu’s comfy.” Akira pipes up as his way of agreeing.

“Anything else before we get all nice and cozy?” Haru asks.

“Because once I’m comfy I am _not_ getting up.” Futaba adds.

“Can…” Akira trails off. It’s too big of a step, too soon. He knows he shouldn’t ask, but he really, really wants to. But it should probably wait. A day, a week, maybe forever. He can always try the pacifier on his own, if he ever gets the courage.

“Hey…” Noticing his hesitation, Makoto crouches, laying her arm on the bed and resting her face in the crook of her elbow. From this angle, she doesn’t look scary at all. Akira wants to hug her so she doesn’t look so sad. “This is a judgment-free space, okay? You’re allowed to need or just want something. And if you don’t feel comfortable pushing yourself, that’s okay too.”

“In my suitcase…” Akira trails off. He knows he should be big for this conversation. It’s a huge step, for all of them, and they deserve to at least take it in without having to cater to his emotions.

“I’ve got it.” Haru volunteers. She finds the teddy bear first. It’s a little smaller than the one he got from Yui, but the hearts on its paws make it hard for him to pick one as a favorite. “Aww, your teddy has a friend!”

It would be easy to end it there, to brush it off like he just wanted another cuddle buddy, but his wants are stronger than that. He _wants_ the pacifier, just to know if he’ll be accepted or not. “One more thing…”

He watches closely, knowing the exact moment Haru finds it. After all, it’s the only thing left in the suitcase. And while she looks surprised, she doesn’t look disgusted.

Akira clears his throat and sits up. Yusuke lets him go easily enough, but the change in the air is palpable. “If it’s too weird you can put it back.”

“No, not at all.” Haru smiles, but there’s a twinge of sadness to it that only makes Akira feel guilty. “I was just thinking we should try and get you one that’s sized properly so it doesn’t affect your teeth.”

Makoto’s eyes light up. “I did do some research on stim toys as well, so maybe we could look at chew necklaces too? Would you like that?”

He’d like that so much. More than anything else in the world. Tears well up in his eyes before he can stop them, even though he doesn’t know why he’s crying.

“I know,” Makoto soothes, running her hand through his hair. “It must be hard to settle into your headspace. It’s okay.” She gives him a little smile, trying to coax a little bravery out of him. “When did you get this?”

“After Taba got hurt in the Palace.” Akira takes the pacifier and puts it in his mouth, hoping to end the line of conversation before it can start. They can put the dots together easily enough, that he’d been desperate for comfort after the whole ordeal and thought it best to handle it on his own. The pacifier produces a soothing weight on his tongue that almost instantly relaxes him.

Akira gives a couple small glances around, expecting to be met with scorn or disgust, but no one seems to care. Ryuji and Ann just keep idly stroking his hair, Yusuke keeps on holding him. The only sign that something is off is Makoto’s pinched face.

“It’s the germs.” Makoto says, trying to reassure him when she’s no doubt internally screaming. “Let’s disinfect that before it goes in your mouth again, okay?”

The others shuffle in close. Haru slips into the tiny space between Ryuji and the back of the couch. Futaba rests her back against Akira’s knees, careful to focus most of her weight on his good leg.

The movie starts, and Akira finds himself immediately enraptured.

_Ponyo_ is a lot better when you get to see the whole thing. He loves the characters, the colors, _everything_ , but he’s quickly falling into a state of fuzzy warmth where he can’t keep his eyes open.

He snuggles deeper against Yusuke’s chest, letting sleep take over.

~

Akira blinks awake, his mind groggy.

He’s warm on all sides, the kind of warm that makes it near impossible to move. There are hands against his chest, hands in his hair. Hands holding his.

Something shifts to his right, the same thing that must’ve woken him up in the first place.

“Hey.” Ryuji whispers. Akira almost starts. How does Ryuji know he’s awake already? “You awake?”

There’s a pause, a little shift to his left. “Yeah.” Ann whispers back. Okay, so maybe not talking to him.

“I don’t think anyone slept last night.”

“Prolly not. Makoto was sending me articles on being a good caregiver until three in the morning.”

“Yusuke was askin’ for babysitting tips.” Ryuji absently scritches as Akira’s hair, an action that Akira can’t help melting into. “I couldn’t move even if I tried.” Ryuji laughs.

Since neither of them can see his face, Akira ventures a peek. The first thing he sees is Morgana sprawled out on his lap, completely asleep.

Haru is on Ryuji’s other side, and at some point she’d nodded off against his shoulder. Makoto’s head is in her lap. Even in sleep, she holds Akira’s hand tight.

Futaba had been appointed the DVD changer, since she was closest to the DVD player, but she must have drifted off some time ago, because the DVD selection screen has been playing on a loop.

“You think he liked it?” Ryuji asks after a moment.

“You saw his face. He was overjoyed. You’re doing fine.”

Ryuji sighs. “I hope so.” He thumbs at Akira’s forehead, the silence telling. Whatever’s on his mind goes unsaid. “I think I’m gonna go back to sleep myself.”

“Like you could get up if you wanted to.” Ann teases. “I’m gonna get some candy from the convenience store.” The bed shifts slightly, but not enough to disturb anyone. “You want anything?”

“I’m good.”

Her footsteps trail off down the stairs, but there’s a pause before she leaves where Akira can hear her talking with Sojiro.

He dozes on and off, not feeling comfortable enough to truly drift off until the mattress slightly depresses, and Ann’s fingers briefly thread through his hair.

If he could stay in this moment forever, he would.

But for now, he’ll just appreciate it while it lasts.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Very short epilogue chapter! Thank you everyone for your support! I'll try not to get too sappy but all the comments have made finishing this fic a breeze. Hope you enjoy! <3

Hello Kitty band-aids.

That’s the first thing Akira sees at the convenience store, and in that instant, his mind is made up.

He glances up to see if Haru and Ryuji are looking, but they’re picking out snacks, mainly juice boxes and candies. From what he can piece together, Ryuji keeps picking out snacks and Haru keeps disapprovingly putting them back.

It’s an odd combination. He’s never seen the two of them just hang out before, but they wanted to take him to the planetarium, and he couldn’t say no to that.

So first thing that morning, he carefully twisted the last of his Buchimaru-kun band-aids around his index finger, and waited for the unlikely pair to pick him up.

The band-aids had quickly become a way to signal to the others that he was feeling small in public without having to say it. Usually he picks a noticeable spot, like his fingers or hands, so his friends will be able to tell at a glance, especially when they’re at school.

It’s become sort of a ritual with Akira. If he wants to spend a little day with someone, they have to go buy band-aids first. Of course, Haru and Ryuji are also taking it as a chance to stock up on snacks, though Akira knows Haru has some healthier treats in her bag.

Akira checks on either side, making sure no one’s around. Not that anyone would single him out or question him for buying band-aids, but he’s still trying to recapture that confidence his regressed self has in spades.

It wouldn’t be bad for him to buy a box, right? It’s his own money, and the others said there was nothing wrong with it so long as he was happy.

As he reaches for them, his hand accidentally collides with someone else’s.

“Oh, sorry!” The person immediately pulls away, snapping her hand back to her chest like she’s afraid he’ll bite.

“No worries…” Akira says, but the words quickly die on his tongue. He recognizes that baby blue sweater, those big brown eyes… “Yui?”

Yui’s head jerks in his direction, her eyes wide. Immediately she’s on guard. “I’m sorry, do I know you?”

Right. Why did he think that was a good idea? He hadn’t thought, just blurted out her name. It’s so surreal to see her in person. “Sorry. You just—look like someone I know.”

The tension in her shoulders dissolves the tiniest bit, but she still looks like she’d be ready to bolt at any given moment. “Oh. That makes sense.”

Yui pauses, checking over both shoulders. Akira turns his attention to the band-aids, just so she doesn’t feel like she’s being watched.

Ryuji and Haru have their backs to the two of them, and aside from a couple already on their way out, they’re the only people in this store.

Yui turns back, shaking her head. The paranoia must be routine for her, if it comes this naturally. “I’m sorry, but do you mind if we have a conversation?”

“We’re having one right now.”

“Oh, you’re right!” Yui’s face burns. “I’m sorry. I’m still learning how to talk to people.” She rights herself, looking like a puppet on impossibly tight strings. “This is actually my first time out of the house in a while.” Yui admits.

“Big first step.” Akira comments. It’s a fight to keep his face neutral, like he doesn’t already know that. Like he isn’t unbelievably proud of her. “Shibuya isn’t exactly lifeless.”

“I know. I thought it was a good idea to just plunge into the deep end, you know?” She rocks back on her feet. “I feel like I’m about to be run over any second now.”

“My sister had the exact same problem for a while. Look straight ahead and walk with a purpose. People will get out of your way.”

Her eyes go wide, a grin lighting up her face. “That’s a good idea! Thank you!”

Akira nods. Just looking at her, he can see how much progress she’s already made. It’s not his place to say, but she doesn’t give herself enough credit for the effort she’s put in. Even now, he can see the difference between the terrified girl in the Palace and the girl in front of him.

“I have a lucky charm.” Yui says suddenly. “Wanna see it?”

“Sure.”

Yui reaches into her bag, a plain leather purse hanging by her side, and pulls out something Akira never expected to see.

The calling card.

“I don’t know what they did, but I know it was them.” Yui says, flipping it over to show him both sides, like she wants to prove its authenticity. “They changed my heart.”

“That’s really something.” Akira comments.

“Isn’t it? The Phantom Thieves really are amazing.” Yui puts the calling card back on her bag with care. “But it’s not like I have to tell you that, right?”

Akira blinks, trying not to visibly lose his cool. He knows that her wording is a coincidence. She just has to mean that the Phantom Thieves are popular with high school kids. That’s it. So that’s what he goes with. “Yeah, I’m a big fan of them too.”

Yui grins. “That’s great! I have to go meet my sister at the station now. Thank you for the chat!” She scurries to the counter, Hello Kitty band-aids in hand.

“Was that who I think it was?” Haru asks as she and Ryuji approach. She and Ryuji make no secret that they were keeping an eye on him. Those two are especially protective of him, and even though he isn’t little yet, they still admittedly hover.

“Ya think she recognized us?” Ryuji asks.

Her items paid for, Yui takes a deep breath, squaring her shoulders before starting down the street with a new sense of confidence.

Akira shakes his head. “Not a chance.” People didn’t know about their own Palaces, but that didn’t stop Akira from looking for a sign that they did. He had a working theory that Palace owners might remember feelings instead of specific memories, but he still had no concrete evidence for him.

After all, maybe Yui’s change of heart meant she was more comfortable in public too. There was no way she remembered him. She was probably just reacting to the first friendly face she saw. No doubt she’d show that calling card off to everyone she could.

He could’ve sworn she winked at him, but that had to be pure coincidence. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm thinking of turning this into a series, though it'd probably be a little more slice of life. Let me know if you'd be interested in that!

**Author's Note:**

> mcschnuggles.tumblr.com


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